Thursday, September 29, 2016

"Rome is also built on ruins"
-Eliza Griswold

i still struggle differentiating
fever dream from memory, 3 pinches means
it tasted, means
palpable and quantifiable and real.
it would help if i had not 
been born out of my parent's love. 
kisses like hot wax leaving permenant welts of the places
we have touched, nothing seems to 
frighten me anymore, nothing seems to be able to kill me 
anymore; tiger striped
and untouched, my scars are birch trees
i am 
a forest. 
 
so, i walk the halls naked and eat chips 
unabashedly. when you learn to live alone
inside your own house, everywhere becomes
home. perhaps i drank from the fountain of life
accidentally;
Rome is built here, i am
built here.

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