I walk amongst men like a living apparition, the spirit of one who is too scared to become grounded in a shape.
I was born with a soul missing its skin, its nerve endings exposed to the piercing world.
Sound waves trigger tsunamis in my head

Words explode on my tastebuds, and trickle down my throat, where they burn black holes in me

I smell emotions like a shark smells blood in the water miles away

I bleed my heart out on the daily but I never seem to die
Just when I think I can’t take it anymore, when I want to burrow my face in the dirt and cease to exist – my heart gets refilled and my back straightens. 
I take two dozen paper sheets and I rub them on my tongue to get the residues of the words that imploded, and I dip the papers in the blood gushing forth from my heart and I hang them to dry.
Once they’ve dried, I’ll stitch them together into a heavy quilt for my bare soul. I don’t want to take flight anymore. I want to take shape.

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