ROT

​

Stephanie Smith

 

no more mirrors to look through

no more portals to step into

no more moments of what I lived for

they’re slipping through the cracks in the wall

and this silence burns my ears

this loneliness:

the dominant fear

 

I feel for something to grab onto

but only air caresses me

the Great Unknown

beyond illusions

flesh means nothing

 

but it’s all we have

 

no more skinless summers in the park

when the world has gone to sleep

no more promises to keep

there’s too much flesh here to eat

this pus and rot

has got me running

 

still, I’ll wear this leather

have meat to eat

jump up and down

and dance around

to a song on the radio

 

perhaps tomorrow I’ll skin myself

to dream another dream

​

Stephanie Smith is a poet and writer from Scranton, Pennsylvania. Her work has appeared in such publications as THE HORROR ZINE, CARNAGE HOUSE, APHELION, RAVEN CAGE, THE LITERARY HATCHET, and ILLUMEN.