Bad Patches

There was a time
When white skin blanched my hand

My eye looked
At the white skin
Patches on my hand backs
And cracked with painless pain

I carried on with normal life
The rumble of life
With people in normal skin
The beach worthy and the gym worthy

But I was that fruit
That went rotten
Before all the rest
I was the one
Who threw myself out

I was the zebra striped hulk
Who hated embracing
Even himself

Then came some blue wash
Into my head
I thought I was dying
But it cleansed up my dead
And replaced it with flesh

But that was the easy job
There’s still the
Lie down dead in my dreams
Tightness inside
That won’t unwind

As if depression
Wears a skin tight coat
Of black enamel

What do I like best
Scratching my itchy skin
Or chocolate?

I tried scratching chocolate
And it bled like a river

I so do think of those kings
Who had withered limbs
And fits of gangrene

And bits missing
Who strove to be
On the coins of their make believe

Clearly and rightly
If you ask me
A human being
Wasn’t meant to be a king

To be surrounded by scorpions
Roses with thorns
And heretics to burn
And warehouses to be kept full
In case of plague

Who never knew chocolate
And took their itches
To the grave

Those lived best
Way out west
In village communities
Covered in chocolate

To be too far away
To be flayed
By their king

The wind crushing full moon face
Is here
The cold crushing full moon face
That removes the ice cold
And replaces it with spring rushing water

The rain chasing full moon face
Is above
The escapees are mulled in love
The full moon pulls out of her wardrobe
The changes of clothes
And waves them
Brightly in the night sky
So that birds who want to fly
Start to fly
And monsters of winter
Go back inside to hibernate
And hide

And it is then
That that rickety old shoe rack
comes to life

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