Hunger

My Skin Itches from the Inside

My skin itches from the inside
I try to scratch with my bones
To no avail
It burns, like a million tiny diamonds
Cutting my vessels, cutting their way out.
A diamond is not as beautiful as blood
Though both are carbon-based,
In scientific terms.
A pure, pale upper lip
Painted red, a small trickle
From the nose is the fountain
Whence beauty first remembered itself.
Anyway, my skin itches from the inside
And my bones won’t work.
Maybe my insides are lonely
My intestines are tired of the same old crap.
My fingers twitch involuntarily
And filth reverberates from my mouth.
My knees click out in desire for a friend
And my skin, with diamonds,
Or lava,
Itches in my sleep.
Anyway, it itches from the inside,
And my bones won’t work.

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This entry was published on August 12, 2012 at 12:56. It’s filed under Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

3 thoughts on “My Skin Itches from the Inside

  1. Robb on said:

    Anyway. Nice touch

  2. I have been surfing online more than 3 hours today, yet I never found any interesting article like yours. It’s pretty worth enough for me. In my opinion, if all site owners and bloggers made good content as you did, the internet will be a lot more useful than ever before.

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