The Bruise

Too many drugs, too many people on drugs

Fingers cold and stiff

 bent broken in the

 middle blue nails chewed down to

Red and sore, pulling

 scratching at the skin spread

across my

knuckles stretched cigarette

burns pretty patterns pick pick

And the scab falls apart, blood build-

ing up and filling the holes

in me I run my hand through

my hair soft and short

blue grass it’s been growing like a weed

Up and further out my knuckle

Blood leaving a red

and sticky mess across my scalp

I bring the hand

In front of my face, follow it down

the arm and to a bruise

inky purple near my elbow press

Down, dull ache

Warming me

Reaching out into my fingers

throbbing (hold me)

-breathe in- smoke spiralling

Above my head a cloud around

My face

Our face, my eyes, your eyes on

Me

I touch my skin with

Fingers alien amazing how

they bend against my palm

-pass it on- lean back and

Watch the other faces take themselves

Away from here breathe in

And hold it.

Empty eyes and trembling

Fingers, they are gone already

And I wonder why

and where they run 

Reviews

[recantichize]

really potent and tactile, so many sensations ! this is such a bizarre and unappealing set of images that somehow combine into a fantastic and intriguing piece.

[...]

I remember my days of substance abuse.
They were so dark.
And, it takes a lot
to be brave now.
All the time.

[tekphobik]

Though focused on the subject at hand the wording of the piece lends an ambiance of despondency to the environment.

[Cove Mitchell]

I like it. Very vivid imagery. Captivating and for feelings I can't really find the right words for, it saddened me very much. Thnx for sharing.

[Holiday Sparkle]

It would be a lot nicer if you put some spacing in to add some flow.
I think if it it were easier to read It would be much better. Hopefully, that was not harsh. sorry .