Couldn't eat so
I smoked a cigarette,
now all I've got is shallow satisfaction,
bad breath.

But I'll pick my scabs, just to
remind myself,
Pick my scabs
as if I could find myself
finger-deep in my own left thigh.

Missed you today,
I turned the TV on so I wouldn't
feel alone, and
let reality slip
away.

And I pick my scabs to remind myself,
Pick my scabs to encourage better health
And I pick my scabs so I can know they're healing

I always fell in love with
moments, never with the man.
I danced through stars to
love songs I couldn't understand

And I pick
my scabs, just to remind myself
And I pick my scabs,
just to pretend to know
how scars are birthed from blooming skin

Pick my scabs like I wish I
could crack apart my shell,
let it shatter
let it shatter

But you can't see it, so to you it doesn't matter.

Flesh will always lie, but my keloids will remember.

Bitter past will grasp upon you
but surviving is what matters.

So I,
pick my scabs
to remind myself

I feel sorry that some people think

They
Weren't
Born
Whole.

So they go out searching,
Waiting,
Abating,
For somebody to complete their soul.

At a young age I was blessed to be broken
Got to put the pieces back together myself.
No man, no prince, no shining bright knight.
Just me and my sutures
Disinfecting alcohol on the shelf.

I don't need a healer
So no human need bother
I fixed what was broken
Saved you your wine-and-dine dollar

Spend it on a damsel
Who's been tricked into thinking she's distressed
Because I'm having none of that **** here
I'm the latest model of me and it's simply the best.

See medically speaking,
Scars won't ever leave
But they can always be replaced
By smaller ones chosen at your knives' reprieve

So I've built myself a brand new me
As whole and together
As possibly could be.

Patched up nicely with sutures
Tied ever so tight
Keloids like embedded trophies
Many a victorious fight.

And while one might go searching
Like a pollinating human bee.
I know my self worth.

I'll never depend on thee.

He,
standing on my doorstep,
         it is only
He             who i open the door for.

He    steps in,     standing
     n o n c h a l a n t.
i offer,
offer to Him scalding tea
     with poisoned biscuits.

His fingers  taper
tapering to            claws,
claws that run along my collar
    collarbones

undoing my collar,
undoing my buttons down,
  d
       o
              w
                            n
and o! He unclasps the fishing hooks
where He wounded me                      so long ago,
the once open gashes now
      scars! scars! keloids and scars!

fear, fearing, i feared,
i knew He would be disgusted,
my impure skin, with bUmPs
and so many im pur ities,
      no longer am i blank,
blank slate,
                extra ****** olive oil to sear with.

and still, He ravages my flesh,
the flesh with purpose
purpose to summon Her,
      life.

He rips my insides, allowing
wilting, withering away,
    losing first blood was so long ago.
  the last i bled a month ago,
                  yet i need not fear fertility.

He is welcome,
He is here!
He uses me,
eats me,
inside me,
becomes one with me,
and then
He leaves.

His next visit i await.

Broken trust lingers,
keloids bloom on tender skin—
time’s sharp hand caresses.

Only mem’ries remain,
etched deep like ancient rivers—
heart learns forgiveness.

Light seeps through the cracks,
wounds become a part of me—
scars, my final strength.