I am peeling the skin,

thick repulsive dotted yellowed

lumpy boney



I am peeling the skin,

speckled brown sharp soft

dark edged



I am peeling the skin,

flesh spits outwards mouldy

squeezes squirts



I am peeling the skin,

sickening smell saliva decay

pulpy mess



I am peeling the skin,

dig push finger into mush

pull out



I am peeling the skin,

grime on the floor sudden guilt

wasted taste



I am peeling the skin,

rotting dirty fruit I think

thinking other


Do you understand it now?

Some people say they don’t understand my poems. But I don’t remember asking if they understood. I want to know if they enjoyed it.

Because. Because, this poem is about you. And that poem is about you too. That last one when I talked about those selfish girls or those feelings you get when you wake up and you’re no longer dreaming. That poem about hatred and jealousy is about you too. It’s selfish. You must think only about yourself. Poetry is completely selfish, you see.

So, tell me. What are you thinking about?


I’m thinking about him…

Screenplay for a poem (2)

Fade in:

The camera focuses in on different parts of the body, clothed and unclothed, throughout the poem. People of all genders, ages and body types appear on the screen and the camera places specific emphasis on the unique details of each body.


Who are you?


Look, why doesn’t my face suit me?

Nothing lines up quite right

My cheeks push out too far and my lips aren’t central


I’m like socks not quite pulled up, crinkled at the ankle.


Why doesn’t my dermis match my epidermis?

And my epidermis match my blood?

I am pink and speckled brown


I’m like the torn wrapping from forgotten presents.


My wrinkles make maps across my body

But there is no end and there is nowhere to turn around

Each line breaks and clusters and makes me queasy


The bruises on my arms are foreign and deep

Unknown and undesired

Not because they hurt, but because they don’t


I blush when I’m nervous

I blush when I’m excited

I blush when I’m angry

I blush when I sleep


I’m like the dregs of beer left out in the sun.

Nobody I know


Fade out