get out of my skin please

get out of my skin please

I want my crannies to nook for you
But you don’t even look 
Look;
I want my biomap fingerprints to interlock with yours 
Inexplicably the maze patterns slot in harmony
written for the other, waited two lifetimes for this chance meeting

Racing to the maze middle
I am discouraged
By your disinterest
Cheers or jeers would be preferable to this silence
I find myself the lone contender 
You are unfit to adjudicate;
Trusting the leaves on the left
They lead me out
Heart lead
Guide me to the end of desire

The heartstrings that make up my right ventricle 
You appear to have turned into a hammock
Summer months approaching
The sway pulling strings in all the wrong directions 
Transcending my corp-Reality into a grotesque puppet mimicry
More and more it swings and stings and disrupts the flow from my head
unto my toe
And it isn’t red within, there’s translucence for dinner
This I know
Because a slice of me is cut for the prizewinner 
The ones who made it to the middle grossly engorged
Their fingers ragged and wrecked from dragging through unforgiving foliage 
bloated, bursting, not seen to be sightly
Unseen in safety, for he has forgotten me
And our fingertips never even touched

But the incessant twitch that makes me dream of itching the scratch right out of my chest 
Is treated in waking like a Victorian asylum patient: tightjacket escape artists
My little lost mazerunners bravely perform their Sisyphean trope 
and I traipse about too, comfort-grasping the lighter in my pocket closer to these wistful fingerprints.

Leah De Mey (she/her)