I hope you like this title

Shreds of papery skin like feathers, ruffled and anticipating

the checking and rechecking double-checking.

Because my insatiable pins and needles in a

temporal space I can no longer scratch, calm or reach

will take her from the doors and windows and keys forgotten.

My arteries hammered, strummed and plucked like thrash metal

when the creak of sneakers creeps up the stairs.

Now knowing that you’re looking, I multiply by at least 2.

Every sentence that comes out feels like codes,

a word game, highlight and translate, replacing

adjectives, verbs, people, places and things, with

sounds that will make you stay.

Supposed to be makes my fingers bleed and

my moth eaten lips a history of when I last fucked it all up again.

Present and not present, watching and watched,

only feeling identified through the same scrutiny that silences me.