Tuesday, October 14, 2014


The ribbons of red
Fan out in all direction. 
It's not just my eyes. 
It's my feet. My hands. 
Stigmata dripping blood
For the world to see. 
Inward pain directed out, as if 
Manifestation reinforces to you
What I already know to be true. 
A thousand voices confirmed.
You don't belong here.
And I'll prove one last time 
How right they are as it becomes
Impossible to separate
Blood from bath.

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