unaccustomed to the ways of the wicked
corrupted by hunger, the need for flesh
she is born, craves new skin
she is free and alone
until she meets everyone
and they are all talking
their words are absorbed like a delicate lotion
that seeps and settles until she becomes them
she is suddenly the thing that she had never
imagined being spoken out loud
She runs, nearly naked, dressed in blue feathers,
demure, painted on undergarments
she is suddenly the world, vivid
her viridity emanates from like sugar from
her pores, she attracts flies that endlessly buzz
until she builds a barrier, a veil for her heart
It is easier, she realizes, to run naked through the streets
than to lie alone, covered, clutched to her pillow
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