i am ugly. perhaps not always, but tonight for certain. my texture, scent, the blue bruises fading here and here, the almosthealed skin, the swimming veins. last night i was open, as a wound; tonight i fester.



the heat gives me hives, allergic to the very air.



we have changed the locks. to keep HIM away. i open the door slightly to the bell and retreat. they consume the space with their hungry words and empty laughter, fooling only themselves. i am a ghost and remain; and their engines and their door slams and my silence. precious.



almost too tired for sleep.