I've lost track
of where all my bruises and scratches come from.

They breed
when I sleep
when I study
when I'm alone with my thoughts and
when I'm in company.

They multiply
through the night
through the day
through every waking moment and
through every fitful bit of slumber.

There are those
from the cats
from the carving tools
from the tree climbing and
from the ideas I try to bury.

I hide them
under long sleeves
under stockings
under finger-less gloves and
under poorly-done makeup.

I make up excuses
for my family
for my teachers
for my "friends" and
for my own sake.

But really, no one gives a hoot where they come from,
or that they're there,
or how many there are
or why they're there or...
or...
or...


I don't know, go enjoy your holidays!