Carving Disorders

Carve,
The word,
The letters,
Simple symbols,
Into the supple white,
The stretching flesh,
Of my stomach

If eyes didn’t wander,
And mouths,
Couldn’t ask questions,
I’d trace the word,
With the thin blade,
Until blood,
Was seen

Into the spot,
On the sides of thighs,
Underneath,
Close to the chest,
On the arms

I would dig,
And scratch

A permanent reminder,
That I can do this,
I can win

They say I’m fine,
Whisper,
Turn,
Nod

But my head is reeling,
Fingertips prodding,
Carefully,
Imagining,
Analyzing,
How to write my poetry,
On my skin,
The one word in my head,
With every step

Brush it like,
An artist’s hand,
Turning this fat,
Into something,
Meaningful

One simple line,
Would suffice

Don’t look,
I whisper

While I write out,
Disgusting