Iron deficiency and an unbeknownst need to empty
Dig back into the shell,
Flesh form of multicolored spite

I live an all-over-the-place life,
Tumbling and splaying onto the kitchen floor
But I love that of myself,
For I shall always be happy
Even in dismay and catastrophe

An idealist floating in a sea of imperfections
It is my shelter,
By means of harm for comfort
Imprisoned in a loop of false awakenings,
It is only when the sun plays with my fingertips that I know

Sweet symphony of lights and green,
Soil of my existence in an ever-dim frequency
I could sit in its touch endlessly
But would heat still kiss my surface

Open up the blinds,
Open up my legs
And frost will clear all that is bruised
The unwritten maps that are my thighs,
Forever imprinted as a reminder of the river
That overflowed far past the meadows

In shades of white and painted tears
I will bleed
Leaving nothing behind but cold sunlight