A Series of Poetic Statements.

My eyes are sleep-blurry, but I can still see the pores of your skin breathing under the moonlight.

*

The night us dark, scattered with clouds of violet smog and frozen lanterns that hang from streetsides.
My breath stinks of your disappointment, again.

*

A hail of bullets splatter down, frozen capsules that drum relentlessly against my ungiving skin, a beat to my pulsing rage.

*

I'm all messed up, someone help me, my distorted eyes see nothing but my fading edges of perception.

*

Like and amputated acrobat, I am uncomfortable in my own skin,

*

In the loneliest of nights, you are the soft draught that ghosts over my skin.