on the cusp of the Harvest
your impious words
stain my skin
like permanent marker
bleeding
along the outside (walls) layers
of my (prison) body
that took three decades to (hide) build
rage rises in my chest
air is trapped
half-breaths make it to my mouth
i fight to form
the (write) right words
defying the impulse
to release my (faith) defense
the indecision decomposes
in my (soul) mortal body
i am weak with anger
further broken by my (codependency) unfortified barricade
loneliness permeates through
this hollow perception
Sarah Jenkins
