Self Portrait

My fingernails are now long enough to peel an orange
Or pop a tricky soda tab.

When I woke up this morning because the sun was
Burning my skin through the window
There were eight new sores, tender and
Covered with a soft lens of puss and blood.

One masquerading as a rollerblading accident,
Just under the cleft of my chin.
One concealed behind the bridge of my glasses.
One resting in the crook of skin where nose meets cheek.
Three hidden within the dark of my eyebrows.
One staring blankly from the high tide of my hairline.
And one drilling neatly into my right temple.

My roommates tell me I thrash
Around in my bed, moaning and giggling.
And sometimes I stare at them in the dark
With my eyes closed for several minutes before
Lying cautiously back down.
And, when I wake up in the morning,
My pillowcase has many tiny spots of red
In varying degrees of color and intensity.
The undersides of my fingernails are discolored a faded brown.

I�ve purchased three different face scrubs
All with exfoliating beads and energizing foam qualities
Hoping to dig out and destroy any lingering microbes.
Three different medicated face lotions
That promise to restore my skin to a blemish-free,
Happy existence.

My mother saw my face on Thanksgiving.
She told me that when I was three, she
Had to put mittens on my hands while I slept
Because I�d wake up in the night with bleeding eyes.

Reviews

[deadeyes]

Sami - I can only imagine what you've seen that you are echoing Oedipus desire to erase your eyes to get at the vision, but this is a strong recount of the symptoms. I won't pretend to diagnose. I'll just say, nicely said, and I hope you're OK, or this is fiction.

[ambur]

Some of the stanzas were..graphic? To say the least. I liked it, though. Very different.