It
is Written
In the forest of my
faces
In the darkness of
my heart
In the ashes of the
traces
Of the faces in the
dark
In the outback of my
ribcage
In the wasteland of
my pain
In the birdcage of
my image
In the desert of my
name
It is written in the
contours
Of the cracks within
my skin
It is written in the
fractures
Of the branches of
my limbs
It is written in
grace
In the space between
my atoms
It is written in the
face
Of my faceless constellations
It is written in the
swirling
Of the cosmos of my
eyes
In the sea shells of
my ears
In the curling of my sighs
It is written in the
ink of my spit
From the stomach of
my pit
And in the pinkness of
my sex
It is written in my
death
As without
So within
Earth
Sky
Skin
