Burn Scars

My eyes burn for sleep, but it doesn't come.

12:30 in the afternoon and I am collapsed in bed with Puccini singing to me and these despicable oils clinging to my wrist and I shiver with horror that I let it come back that way and that I let it come here!

And that I am still stinging today and don't' know how to explain...

But it was for the sea and the ripping orange sky. I did it for the dignity of that bold and stern sun who glared so disapprovingly.

But today... today the taste lingers ceaselessly in my mouth and through the giardia-striped showers and hangs on me like a nightmare.

I want to disappear into eternity and marble and not be in a place anymore. I thought that is where I am, but he chases me and then pins me down and I stretch for the April skies with Mimi but come back with burned hands and blackened thumb-nails.

And so I chopped them all off today, only they didn't want to come...But I made them... I forced it.

But that stinging, stinging pain will not leave. And that taste and the slight nausea that hangs in my stomach... All fighting off that sleepy angel and laughing at my own mistakes. Thank god St. Petersburg has no 109 (or health care!).

Alright. I am feeling too lethargic to write anymore...