Insomnia, cigarettes, coffee;

You stumbled upon my skin,

Nothing underneath to befriend

But you shared your soul with me

So I could have one awhile.

Despising flesh, but still

Your eyes caught underneath,

Scalpels cutting deep,

With calm surgical skill.

You see parts of me I don’t.

I repudiated community.

Injecting intentional lies

To avert watchful eyes,

But you possessed immunity,

And I stood before you exposed.

The good and bad in open air.

I didn’t know what else to do.

I fled. I fought. I bit you.

You continued unimpaired

To tame the shrew in me.

Then began the raining tempest

Dissolving my once impenetrable resistance.

I could no longer keep you a safe distance,

But curled up under you for rest.

I finally slept at last.

When I awoke, the flood had receded.

We stood together; defenseless, alone.

You: a threat I’d never known,

But I had already conceded.

I was yours to guard or grieve.

These staggered breaths, these years exhaled,

Have shown a soul cannot be earned,

But perhaps re-grown, or returned.

I got mine back the day I failed

To treat you like all the rest.

Can I force these words to flow?

Chilled lava, hardened glass.

Swigging at the verbal flask,

But these slurs pour forth slowly.

These ideas hide under the surface;

Shape-shift, germinate.

I can neither expel, nor exterminate,

When I can’t determine their purpose.

I wait for the tremors before I delve,

Dousing them with words

So that when they emerge

They can explain themselves.

I grew within the barren tree

Twisted branches, desolate leaves,

Bitter bark to protect from disease,

And all the burning cold that creeps.

“Death,” pronounced, but the view deceives

Cut through to pulp, and life will bleed.

While all the force of gale and fury

Shaping with each stroke of cruelty

Aimed for roots, but merely stripped the eaves.

Sky breaks open, a breath to see

Warm rays, the scent of security.

Seasons change, eventually.

But I, protected, possessed, will flee

Under the skin of death and deeds

And lies of a life I can’t believe.

I title this existence, “Free.”