Spotted, stick and poked like a Dalmatian
A reminiscence of my shattered self
I wore this skin one signed elation
And now I shed with photos on my shelf
I’m wrapped in layers of smeared paper
And wish I never saw these pages
You’ve rooted all inside and out in capers
Before I knew you are contagious
My eyes are red from nights I yelped
My hands are red from strangers’ touches swatching
But little did I know it never helped
When you’ve become a drama show I can’t stop watching
But still
I ask myself
When pain is blunt
Is this a haunt or a hunt?
requested
© Copyright: Запах Сарсапарели, 2018
Свидетельство о публикации №118120600068
Свидетельство о публикации №118120600068
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