skeleton wrists

I’m made of skeleton wrists and shrouds of knit fabric 
Poorly lit images of doodles on Polaroid film,
Bleeding reflection of jealousy half-lost.
Halving time, picking up pennies,
Dropping them again in a contradictory manner
And not the cool kind, but the bad, the annoying,
The frustrating type of way.
Scalloped necklines of dresses with tags still on
Fashionably late, still a virgin.

I’m good at grasping at straws, at pick-up-sticks.
Terrifying bits of skin falling lightly
Dead, to the floor, lying there all political.
Split-ended hair and feathery insides
Sticking out like broken palm trees through windows
Hurricane season, no end in sight.

I’m skinny, starving, never hungry.
Freckled cheeks, and not the ones you’re thinking of
Red burned scratches, new bodily functions
Halving days, hung upside down.
Knobby bruised knees, gnarled pilled leggings,
Plastic and flesh become one.
Plush socks and embedded toenail gunk
On purpose, or on accident,
Somehow still calloused.

I’m passing, time flying by, imprisoned in me.
Great friends, great stories when they leave
The room, spins, wrists too small, grabbing
Break them in two.
Decadent imagery and new vocabulary
Finding romanticism, spoiled, rotting by politics.
Body rectangular, boxed in a cubicle 
Fashionably late, feet roughened by years
Flooding.

I’m told quick lies, left unwashed dishes.
Cherry stems untied, drowned
In soapy water.
Crumb-ridden bedsheets and dusty floors
Energy drained,
Dead hair clogging airways.
Stained shelves and crumbling dynamics,
Horror stories too scary to handle for us,
But not for me.

I’m finding I’m not all that sad, just tired.
We make our beds like dogs,
Grass stains on acid-washed jeans.
Losing time and resolve
Torn wrappers and funneled alcohol
Drips down and over,
Spilt onto dappled, grit-ridden shoes.
Angled poses, images of drawings, smeared
Day in, day out,
Barefoot and boney.