You can never live under my skin, as
I can never do the same.
Under my skin,
There are joys and pains.
There are skeletons and mirrors.
There are truths and lies.
There are burdens and foolishness.
There are loves and animosities.
There are laughter and sadness.
Under my skin,
Many things might crawl.
However, they are all mine to bear.
Therefore, don't try to live under my skin,
As your shoulders could not possibly carry,
The weights loaded on my shoulders.
Under my skin...
I alone live!
It's not that I fall in love too much or too easy
I just adore human's body
Warmth of the skin
How some of them smooth
How some of them rough
The colors of sunshine and dark night
Make my mind wanders
Like the spring I bloom
Then the petal falls like autumn
As I my fate moves
And my mind touched all over again
Like the phases of the moon
Tattoo /tat-too/ noun: The act of inking one's stories on their canvas.
I wonder how many people have walked in a tattoo parlor with pride and excitement of engraving their stories in their skin.
How many people drunkenly stumbled with their friends without their sanity. Forcing the artist to paint their skin.
Art over scars, art over blank canvases.
How many people feel at peace, full, once their body is covered in ink, maybe some feel emptier.
How many fears and uncertainties are left at the entrance and how many regrets are pushed away once leaving.
I wonder about those people and their stories.
I wonder about the tattoo artists that are the true story writers.
Publishing countless of books and chapters on dry worn out skin.
A different shade, a different texture; but the same black ink connecting them.
I wonder if they ever see themselves in a part of the stories they carve out.
Untold secrets carefully swirled, poking into the skin. Marking its territory.
I wonder if the artist ever unintentionally let their own emotions pour into the ink that’s running through the canvas?
I wonder how many secrets are hidden in tattoos. And even if the person doesn’t tell their story to the artist it doesn’t mean there isn’t one hidden.
There are emotions and thoughts with every dip in the black thick ink. With every prick in the skin, a new emotion floods through them.
Bringing a sense of harmony to their story.
Walking through the corridors, feeling the judgemental looks burning on my skin.
To them I'm a stereotype, a girl filled with tattoos, a skinhead jacket and a fake smile.
A threat maybe?
No I can't be?
I'm laughing all the time, so no one will notice.
If they only knew..
What's hiding inside me.
A broken sensitive heart.
A trumatized girl,
who only wants to be herself,
without people looking at her differently and constantly.
Do they see the victim-stamp tattooed on my forehead?
Do they know? Can they?
I forget my ways
traditions of my skin
like pencil dust
In a place
where my soul
has no meaning
I mean not to die,
yet I cannot thrive
in a place
where my bones crumble
like fallen leaves
sweet flavors in my mouth
fade away with time
all is within or without
drained away in the night
all my lost customs,
those dances of my soul
return to me in dreams
as fresh as they are old
I let words slip past my
let them sink into my
wash them out with bitter
they disappear in
I forget my sight
place my eyes
in a transparent box,
there they wait
by the light of an
to be released
to find home
skin pulled too tight
over my trembling bones
exhaling a sigh,
whisper of a dream,
diluting my blood
pregnant with blood
red boiling sea within
new water pours in
lost to the
cold core within
can't feel my burning skin
so paper thin
Is looking outside from your inside just as skewed
as when we look from our outside to your inside?
Please, inform my right side brain
That the left side was correct once again
Even a slight whisper will do.
Please? Don't make me beg.
Are you content with what you've made of me?
The world you created so simply with your bare unfaithful hands has become my cruel reality that I can't seem to escape
I wonder how you sleep at night. With her on your left or your right?
The same sheets that hugged my naked skin after exchanging goodnight kisses from your lips
Is now where she makes her dreams appear.
Is this fair? I didn't ask for this.
I drilled holes in her eyes and watched her pupils cave in
I ripped off her fingernails so would stop scratching
I peeled back the skin on her her face because her flesh started splitting open
she started growing lumps on her neck so I ripped those off too
she's turning into the perfect woman
she's getting kinda mad these days
begging me to kill her
but I would never kill her
I'm no monster