constricted by an ophidian
i slither away, just to live
is this where new life begins?
is this where i shed my skin?

bitten by fangs of chagrin
where to win is to never forgive
hiss with this abyss within
i'm living in a pit of sin

with my vision wearing thin
venom is a gift to give
i slip beneath the rocks again
this is where i shed my skin

Is there a way to get the touch of a hand out of your head?
There is no one who has truly been touched and forgets the feeling.
What do I say of your touch
except that I crave it?
I'm clutching at air here.
I'd like a hand to hold instead.

Life's not laundry.
Don't separate
The colours
From the whites.

I am
Nothing more
Than a bag of bones.
My rib cage
Is a prison you rend
In twain, tear the mesh,
And sift fruitlessly through.
I am
An empty shell
You discarded;
All unraveled ends
And frayed edges.
I am
Orange peels
Carrying the essence
Of something sweet
As an echo of scent
And color-
-I will
Return to the earth
And start again.