not my skin

do you know what it's like

to not be able to go home

to not have a place to call that?

i said do you know what it's like 

to go back into a stranger's room, 

in a stranger's house,

and lay in that strange, strange bed

trying to fall asleep?

tremors waking you up in the middle of the night 

covering yourself with layers and layers of blankets but still it's not enough 

it's not the cold you're trying to seek shelter from, but something else

something unnamed 

a certain forebodence upon your flesh

and so you tilt and you arch, wreathing inside your own skin because that too, 

is not yours

because my friend,

nothing belongs to you

𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 is not yours, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 is not yours 

nothing is yours

you, my friend, aren't yours 

and that's not all

the you that is,

is a burden.

who are you a burden of?

and how are you that when you're, well,

not?

you don't know, you don't know 

but this phrase has been etched into your skin

how horrible must have been the childhood of your guardian 

but does that justify

any of this?

tell me,

sing to me lullabies of better days,

open to me pathways to all the other possible worlds,

where you will at last

find your skin?

I said tell me

where will i at last 

FIND MY SKIN?