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
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