Tender Is the Day After

Scratches and abrasions sensate, stalking, doxing, ghosting drones have pinched, clawed, and marked. I remember the sharp edges of yesterday but cannot recall the moments when the bumps and bruises occurred, yet here is the evidence beneath my skin boiling up today as if another I had fought his way through an avalanche of time. I bathe my spectral wounds in virgin olive oil and elderberries, soak tender thoughts in aloe, the essence of echinacea - yet still nothing to see and I wonder if this jagged land is so wrongly put together and I am so loosely stitched, so easily in the way of its daggers then I should not venture another day of being in this worlds way.