got-manga

every morning I tend to notches between each knot in my spine, painting on bandages, filling nicks in shoulder blades with cheap putty. A callous on my lower back [where glass from bottles     broken on bar stools and          tree stumps whose rings outnumber grains of sand               found its way] has been left in a history of the vulgar disbanding of promises. I can count the shed tears with scars that decorate me, white-skinned lashes- hanging tinsel on the lacerated Christmas tree, shedding needles in the carpet, as reminders, "I changed you for a while." Be gentle, removing things of value, setting them aside :ge