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Scribbles
by Ivy
Heartbeats are pounding
The fingertips are tingling
Needles within the chest
knits on a skin that’s aching
Breathing
But the air around is empty
puddles, they are
turning Grey and bluish
Like the bruises
On a pair of knuckles
Can’t slow down
Bloods pouring
Filling
The holes inside
With overflowing chilies
No it doesn’t burn
It heals me
Staring
From Seven feet underneath
a dusky ceiling
Shaking
Like a drug addict in rehab
Pull the pieces together
Dress up for the next chapter
Cover the stitches
With powder
Moaning
all nights
Soaked pillow cases
Alongside
bruised knuckles