Tattoo

a needle charcoal-slathered and dripping dreams into a river of broken skin Cameron holds my hand loosely says I can squeeze but the violence is addicting the pigments bleed into my pores I taste like venom and ash the mirror above my bed lusts George asks if I’m enjoying photographing myself he doesn’t know I’m splattering myself across every canvas slithering over bushes with fangs of thorns and scales of scarlet petals watching the lifeblood spilling over my thighs into my knees stained and inked flickering into a new cage I can break with less force