is this about a condom this is a srs question ok
this skin I’m in.
shaking doesn’t seem to help,
sleep quiets the rustling static of this,
my cellophane tapestry,
but cannot ground the raw hiss of waking speech
piped cooly through
they call me Ice Wraith,
the plastic wrapped
speak not of the hearth, a paintbrush
his fingerpad igniting some hidden
flame beneath the surface.
I know only the quotidian crinkling
of my lifeless
press here and I feel
a dull wrinkle in the synthetic
binding but nothing biological that might suggest
a wormhole of ceaseless pulling that
only holds me
I am clawing itch you swallowed at thirteen that sprang forth tendril-like to hold you in place.
I am dark matter: the fever dream of a lock-limbed sarcophagus.
I am the Ice Wraith and I will eat you, backwards.