fuck me...



Skin
Thursday, Oct. 02, 2003 12:41 a.m.



Skin

They all file onto the train like geese in formation

and this boy stumbles to be free of them,

in his hand a copy of 'fast food nation',

and it is tattered, torn

and it reminds me of myself

my story read so many times

that it belongs to someone else.

And my wrists are healing nicely,

under the beaded bracelets,

and my scars are healing slowly,

under my pale white skin.



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