Goosebumps layer skin,
As wandering hands arouse
Your Inner secrets.

i can feel it, in the pit of my stomach
the memories, they’re back
the thoughts come rushing in
and i can’t stop


The sickness crouches up my throat,
his hands on me, his breath on me
it wont stop. He wont stop


Smile, it’s okay. you’re safe here, you’re at home
he only lives 3 bedrooms away, it’s fine
it’s not like his touch is everywhere.
it’s not like he consumes my every thought


You’re safe now, he reaches out his hand
i stare at his hand, i know what it’s touched,
i stand there waiting for his gaze to trail
it never does, he moves closer; i step back


My skin, is no longer skin
it’s glass and who knew
all it took was one touch
to break me


i’m gone.

Black, Empty Space.
White light; so short, so sudden.
We all return to:
Black, Empty Space.

Picture after picture,
Face after face,
Rest upon the mantle, in
Black, Empty Space.

Their white light,
Lives on
Above the fire,
Through the Black, Empty Space.

The white light dims,
After each generation,
Until resting in
Black, Blank Space.

I finely wear a suit just because
I want to be finely dressed,
Yet no matter how delicate
My skin,
I feel sharpness of the silk,
As it cuts me slowly
Like the insults you bare
From your balcony of power
I've been bruised and broken,
But these bones are shaking
Alongside my veins that bleed
Hope and transparency.

I've been kicked to the curb
more times than a football
Except I don't bounce off,
Because my heart isn't shaped
To survive the forces of evil
That walk amongst these walls,
Or people we call friends.

I still wear the finely made suit
Because I know if I take it off,
My skin will crumble and fall,
sometimes I live my life, In confines of fear
Other people bring when I don't fit
In this tailor made suit,
The only thing holding me together
Is sewmanship that my suit brings,
Or perhaps the mask I hide behind
When I try blend into this room
Full of people wearing suits.