My cold hands once again
clutch the bodice of a pen
& my lips welcome chilled brown.
My feet wet through holes under shoe
& my loose coins
rattle around within the bags under my eyes
that cannot mask
I lose sight
of that period from when
afternoon becomes night;
From when starvation
Quash the need,
stave off the… necessity…
Fight to live;
I’ve met head on upon a long walk up the hill.
Foregoing a snapped up ride
I sit shaking.
Mistaking my shadow for a friend,
In the end, its just me on this journey.
I fret as to how I will sustain.
To not complain
And to explain this skeleton coated in skin.