Skeleton Walking


Strip back the skin
Slip into oblivion
Open the cavity of
my blackened heart
Pulsating in throbbing hands
Alive, but dead within the shell –
The red ink spills
Warm the liquid runs
Through fingers and limbs
and broken parts
Strapped, in leather bounds,
Tightly pulling the pieces of the heart
Hanging by the neck
The clothesline spins
Caught between beauty and beast,

illustrated on the cover on Vogue –

Strung among fine lines
and spiked in knotted yarn,
mending the bare bones
Not just a skeleton walking on its own.

6 thoughts on “Skeleton Walking

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