Broken Bravado
It's all broken skin: this bravado. Your nature would never callus against these brutal impacts, it feels more solid now because they have worn you down to the bone. Insults ricochet through your tender brain and bite the feeding hand for feeling. The shared spikes are gone, and now obsessive compulsive diet sets your rage flaming chasing so many shadows, and projecting all neglect onto any nearby face. Its all broken skin: this bravado, and you're worn out and stripped to the bone needing only family and a wall to beat on a neck to throttle while your anger subsides Written, beginning of September.