do things to my flesh that make me feel more alive

and i,

i want to get tattoos.

swaths of ink

covering skin,

melting scars away,

making them into something less painful.

i want to get them all down my arms,


and wolves,

and black-gray-and-white


i want to get wings on my shoulderblades,

i want to get skeletons on my back,

either side of my spine.

a reminder that,

despite everything,

i have not fallen down yet.

i want wolves to adorn my wrists,

i want them to be there forever.

i want phoenixes on my forearms,

great swirling masses of fire and feathers

and gold and smoke and ash and red and yellow and orange.

i want piercings.

i want silver studs all over my ear cartilage.

i want dolphin bites,

or spider bites,

and a nose ring.

i want a barbell in my tongue.

i want silver piercings in my eyebrows.

and guess what?

i can.

in time, i'll be legally allowed.

and you?

you can't stop me.

because i am a hurricane,

and if i want to 'wreck' my body

with images that make me want to keep living,

then it's my choice.


and i swear to god,

it will always be

my choice.

The End

2 comments about this poem Feed