top of page
It begins like this : dissolving, emptying
out. I feel like snakeskin, I feel
like a delicate, empty thing, I
feel open, hollow.
Inside my sheets my skin is humming, all
around this tiny warm space is
dark, all around is nothing.
The world is a vanishing thing,
swept away from me like rough sand.
I am an island.
I am the only thing left.
Today is an escaping day, a day
burrowed deep in my own skin,
It begins like this : peeling off the layers, one
by one and baring myself,
shivering, to Winter.
bottom of page