“weird girl with gross habits”
i pull, i bite, i stretch, i claw
at the insatiable itch
knawing at me for 14 years
my cuticles bleed
my swollen lips pulsate
i weave a rug with the hair from my scalp
i’m weary from holding the burden of my self-inflicted disgust
yet still, i pull and i bite and i scratch.
every pore on my face is an endlessly fascinating black hole
examining each follicle on my head makes me feel as if i were a scientist, quietly dissecting myself
my body is infinite
a whole universe exists underneath my skin
an endless garden of eden
until the spell is broken
and i’m left mourning
wondering why i willingly drink my own poison
i bathe my wounds, but i bathe them with salt.
if i make peace with the itch,
if i write a poem for her,
if i tell her she’s beautiful while i gently stroke her back
then, perhaps she will dissolve into sweet rosewater.
i bathe my wounds, but i bathe them with salt.
if i make peace with the itch,
if i write a poem for her,
if i tell her she’s beautiful while i gently stroke her back
then, perhaps she will dissolve into sweet rosewater.
Dara Minogue
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