One more plea.

Yesterday was it ? Or the day before?

I forget

I was peeling my skin

Not in scabs.

Not in fleshy bits.

In stretches, in lengths.

From the cranial sutures...

To the metatarsal edges.

Stripping me off to rawness

Pure bloody rawness.

I could be satisfied

When my gut retches

At this sight.

The hard bollus

Which refuses to travel down

From the back of my oesophagus...

Might finally find relief

In this kosher vulgarity.

Or it might...in hope,

Just might let the beast out

That hides between my sternum and

The teeth grinding spinal neurons.

Like a hatchling,

Craning it's neck first

Covered in placental ooze

And skeletal thin pinions...

I could orgasm in arched back

A relief ...

The relief .

Having birthed from tragedy.

Maybe then my abdominals

Will tighten once again.

I shall tie the skin

Tight around it...

Once again.

Just once again...