It's getting harder to remember
what I was like
before I was damaged,
before you tore me open
and forced your darkness in.
I have tried to get it out
by opening my skin
but there is always more
left deep within.
Intruders in the dome of geodesic pink:
Fixtures there have risen, tendrils turned from digits,
forming living chains with corruption housed in-link.
All preemptive measures have fizzled in repose;
neurons dim by proxy, the smell of sleep is known
and shared among synapses as they lapse and doze.