Skin
Skin chases skin alone and stretches itself until it dulls every window, pouring restlessness into home. Skin knows its pours are suffocating and draws its own ink to display fading ideas as permanent tracing these tattoos, hallucinating. Skin licks mirror's cold and clouds wet circles, yet at it's most lucid it realises it's own translucence thus, realises its potential for skin is part, not purpose. Written late in January 2012