Don’t Stain My Sheets

When I am bored,

When my fingers itch with the desire;

To smooth innocently over skin,

With ridges so deep I hook on and pull

The crust, the break, the release of internal cells, close enough to dirt as to be pushed under nails

Innocently.


To my internal dirt and mud and crust,

Please don’t stain my sheets-

For I have to clean them in the morning,

The drips and dots and smears of dried mud wont come out

Water wont wash away scabs, I pick them up myself, push them away into corners,

Don’t stain my walls with bracing palms-

Don’t stain my sheets for my fingers are red-

Don’t touch my ankles for the mud smears-

Don’t grace upon drips for it will be dried soon,

Don’t stain my sheets,

Instead, pick a scab, until












Until no more dirt