Kutt

My meat suit decorated with
Red smiles and ribbons pink
Tapestry map upon the skin
White cross-hatch through fading ink

Deliberate strokes storytelling
Razor sharp and etching deep
In a syntax personal to me
Only then can I find sleep

Saturated with relentless toxins
Its poison the bleed reveals
Cant help but pick the scab
A wound never completely heals

Vacillation marks my syntax
Before the press and release
Tortured words become warm flow
Caught in the undertow of peace