They say the rings in a tree tell a story
I wonder what my wrinkles say
I look at my fingers
rings and dry cracks in my skin
appear through a certain light
I shy from speculation
since everything changes
what matters if I
interpret them
isn’t what I think
apt for interpretation?
yet I bleed
the day can turn
unto ides
yet we march on
the sudden current
of my vessels
run
free
exposed
they are
receptors of hate
like unwanted sun rays
uv
pernicious
uv
I have no protection
yet
I breath
like
magnets repel
to form
my shield
a naked me
against the sun
radiates
yet another day
yet another wrinkle
redden
waiting
to breakthrough