Nothing renders me naked the way
A simple touch
Or smile so subtle in its place
Slides in.
Slow movement misplaces monologues,
Disrobing my identity –
I stand bare
Skimming the boundaries of language.
No semiotic armor bracing me.
No words to wrap in their loving embrace.
Yesterday a line would suffice.
The burning sting flashed through my body
Leaving me empty
And the pain didn’t matter so much.
A line, another line
Not enough.
Chain smoking,
Fucking.
Coming down I’d cloak myself in shame
And wait
For the next chopped sickly exit.
Short stories, poetry and experimental fiction