Quality 16

Featured image

[Artwork by Gabriel Isak Photography]

the wheels are rolling over on the parking lot’s floor

the tears salt the veins of my wrist, shame

seeping into the skin despite the half hand on my shoulder

I have always hated this body

called it “animal”

beat it into submission with my brain

for failure between the track lines and worn down pitches of

grass and muck

I remember how I tore at my face and wore ugliness as a smock

spattering paint and cloth to hide my disgusting lips,

the teeth slick with vomit

and the missing six pack in the toilet

my hometown was a heart of maggots

and I was a furnace of sin, vomiting rot–

spilling the blackened guts over the road.

the mile markers of my past

like guideposts for a person I never wanted to be

the sobs thicken like flies

and clarity crawls its way

out of my low,

dry mouth.


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