the proof of living
there's a comet on my forehead
because i fell all too much like a shooting star
and five orbits hadn't dulled the pleasant burn of entering the atmosphere too fast.
there's a black hole on my left knee
because of miscalculated trajectories and an astronaut's refusal to abandon burning ships.
the asteroid between the third and the final joints of my fingers has been worn smooth
where once i picked it raw again and again and
i'm torn between excitement and disbelief that one of the few marks left by you is fading
My body lacks scars.
Besides blemishes and mishaps,
I appear clean.
But I feel your breath on my shoulders and while it's just air it feels like the weight of one thousand lives.
I feel where your hands have touched me
-you left trails like a slug
And while they are not visible
I feel your slime and I retch in disgust.
I don't know how but you left scars on my brain matter that no amount of apothecaries can cure
-their most nostalgic remedies can't paint you in a good light
I wish I could shed this skin, like the locust that I am.
For I am a plague, the bible itself told me.
Why you would waste your time to implement marks on something so unworthy…
I don't bother myself to figure out.
Badges of Honor
Scars track my journey
scabs and wounds crater struggle
raw pockmarks of life
disfigured forever
wounds from my blood
bandaged by damage
trampled by hordes
blotches tarnished and twisted
mangling of soul
targeted for hurt
by swift arrows of past
but I beg for healing
it’s long overdue
my scars have become
proud badges of honor
for I have survived
my blisters of pain.