boiled skin, mitted hands to prevent

blistered cement on wilting knees

scratching, rubbing feet to skin

heel electrified on shins

a loss that’s fairly win

oily green and red penitence.

we Got..: poison ivy

we're Not above the blistered three leave

hell weak

fuck a yellow-petaled fairy forest

fuck a sterilized-blue-tiled cave

I’m glad the woods writhe

turn me alive, choose sides

**
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if, being alive is feeling pain.

healing from planned

mistakes

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Written by corr5y (Instagram).

If you liked this poem, “tip” corr5y by collecting an edition of this poem at the top of the page OR request a commission via her instagram.

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POMPAS Pig Iconography by @ahoydigitalart.