stained.

Burning my skin with the touch of your hand over my shirt I feel it going through branding your hand print on my back and it hurts. It hurts and I just cant stand it. Nausea takes over and I breathe myself in, in through nose, out through mouth- a couple seconds and it will be done and the singeing on my skin will soon subside until the next person touches me. Dizzy. Falling to a place I’d hoped to never remember. To a place where affection was allowed and great – greatly needed. That was before you put your hand on my back devious determined, now dead after a stroke of soiled skin upon mine. unreadable thoughts locked inside like storage waiting to be unveiled through a series of hypnotic trances and dreams. Dreams. Heart-wrenching, gripping

disturbing bubbled brain visions while my eyes are locked up tight so the tears can sink themselves back in.

slowly listening to your invisible footsteps pounding in my head. I can still taste the fear in my mouth- stone-sober, I, reddened with fire from your palms

thawing at my own personal immortality- directing me stigmatizing me creating me to detest

flesh upon my flesh.