sjsprWriting

bites of life that nip at the heart and collect under your fingernails,

 you burst at every turn.

 your fingertips tingle and scald

 with the sickly-sweet, cotton candy warmth

 from the inferno you've risen.

your pores spill and soak colors,

 an unprincipled and debauched rainbow

 that forms only in the corners of stygian rooms,

behind closed doors that never welcome during the day.

your effervescent eyes bloomed flowers that attract bees,

and you swear, the continous laughter around you

has your hair tango dancing throughout the night.

you are very much nothing.

and you hate it.

you've never strayed too far from the sidewalk before now,

haven't you, dear?