Excoriation

July 7, 2015
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I shift my gaze

an inch to the left,

then the right.

Without reason, I squander

precious seconds

as I peel back the next layer.

I wince, 

my hair is matted

with clear fluid and dark droplets.

It used to sting.

The lack of fear

obliterates the awful compulsion

as I revolt

to extract the worst of my doing.






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