a slit in the mask

there are days when i want to

eat my guts;

days when i need to regurgitate

but the words take too much

to push through my throat

so they stop midway and

ruin my appetite.

it is terrifying when the feelings

remain frozen at the

wrench of my heart

despite the number of times

i change my hairstyle

or scene

or friends

or way of living

like a permanence i try to rub off

until it becomes an obvious scar

i try to hide

with bracelets

tattoos;

layers

and layers

and layers

of cover.