Self Harming

In spring gaze into my hazel eyes see distant horizons flat-lining the congolese savannah, touching bruised clouds against your creamy skin, hives peppered with puce contusions your pummeled complexion, clinging to warm clay your frantic cuticles scratch twisted wrists in tiger stripe slashes as night wolves screech an anthem of loss. Blackened clouds smudge charcoaled crimson tinted skies as humid breath exhales. But now these fists clench like knotted rope as ink clouds etch dusk and punch the night with their thundering.