Prickly cactus pins,
flurried toward my skin.
sinking down on sheets of lies,
my epidermis falsified.
Cells of blood like moss-covered bricks,
pierced right through by cactus pricks.
The places where it stings,
lie deeper than I’ve ever been into my own flesh and bones,
and my heart would never condone,
but tonight I let it bleed,
to know myself a little more.
These prickly cactus pins,
dotted all over my skin,
I dare not try ever again,
to hide the contours of my brain.
Reams of envelopes lie in wait,
to say a few words to my mates.
The lies – they saw, although much of it they forgot,
and some were never for them to understand,
but now cactus pricks have serrated my heart,
only and only the truth pours out,
as the tissues of life, are ripped apart.