Sunday, September 29, 2013

HSP

My porous neurons slurp up every noxious drop of nuance.
“Pause-to-check” is carefully printed inside my eyelids.
I stand all day on the edge of a decision,
Mouth shut and guts swimming.
One cup of “oops” spilled on me in the womb,
And it soaked into the threads of my nerves.
Tendencies now roll like tides.
In a world sodden with sense,
Visceral piques splash against the folds of my mind—
A pencil pecking against a desk jabs at my eardrums.
A shotgun cough firing off from across the room
Crashes down my spinal cord.
Every mistake immerses my anatomy,
Stirring the shameful brine of public tears.
I’ve always been somewhere between a shy, little flaw
And a girl without skin.



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