Scarred Anecdotes

These scars cover my sinners skin

Like the lattice crust of a pie

Or the once white panes of a window

They form patterns

Tributaries flowing their own way

Born from this river of self hate

Stories converging to tell of my past

Telling of the fight for my own convalescence

And the author I am

I add more

Scribing them into meaningless flesh

Tracing these cobalt veins

Until the ink, bold and red

Drips down my leg and dries as it goes

Until it becomes nothing but a red streak

Until it meets the puddle at my feet

I stare numbly as it pools in the bottom of the cracked tub

It’s intoxicating almost, burgundy and thick

When I turn on the shower

I watch it all circle around the drain

The broken shower head rains upon these lacerated shoulders

Cleanses my hands as they cover my face

This process repeats adding more narrative scars

Into the narrative piece that is this miscreants body

And it’s art in a way

These scarred anecdotes

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