It has been years
since your soiled hands
dragged across
my skin

here I am
still trying
to wash
them
off

My blood spills onto the fresh snow.

 I am trapped in a cycle of this violent reoccurring nightmare. I am dragging myself through a dirt and snow covered field on my hands and knees. A rotten beast trailing behind, it's teeth gnashing and ripping my flesh from it's bone. There is little left of my feet, my ankles burn as I pull them through the wintery mess. My tears feel like ice as they carve their way down my cheeks and rush to meet my blood left in the snow. There is a cinderblock of heaviness in my chest that prevents me from crying out for help. As I wake, this heaviness lingers for minutes to hours.

I am left feeling drained.

When I was younger,
I’d lie naked on the wooden floor
just to feel vibrations
of music from the mouth of the stereo
against the back of my neck.
 the burn of ricocheting pulse
to envelope me-
skin, birthmarks and all.
It was then I began believing
in the existence of things unseen.

I am
buried treasure
no one
cared enough
to find