scars

i love scars
strange structures
like tree roots slicing through
fields of flesh
and running just as deep
past blood muscle marrow
time, consciousness, the known and unknown

to me, they read like a book
no fairy tales
mine are documenteries
and gothic fiction

i've read the lives of others
fingers splayed to feel
a silent language: like body braille
coded and intricate
strange and delicate
a thousand different stories
(accidental or intentional)
i've felt down to the bones in some people
it helped me learn who they are
really are
past the surface

no regrets
i offer my stories willingly
and make no attempts to hide
my affairs with kitchen knives and razor blades
i've been a million places
loved a million people
and i have it all
in my own language
marked upon my skin

i want to let people in through the newer tissue
it's the only opening i can give