I've always sensed the scent
coming from down under.
It's the green goo creeping under the door
from my animated adolescent nightmares.

And I'm back to my adolescent ways these days,
yelling in a whisper at my face in the mirror.
Yelling at a the beloved shadow that goes unnoticed.

And if I'm covering up my lies with feelings,
and I'm covering up my organs with skin,
then why am I not covering up my skin?

And I'm covering up my life in a blanket with far too many holes.
but it is still able to protect the boney parts of my body
where my skin is too thin.