Beneath Skin

by Bo Bo Luong

it festers,

bubbling beneath skin,

that awful feeling.

it dizzies my head and closes up my throat.

i feel sick.

my heart is rotting away,

i don’t think it will recover.


it is like an evil,

an anger,

seeping underneath,

burrowing below my bones,

and it makes a home of my body


was i born with it?

have i always carried this rage heavy on my shoulders?

or did i learn it?

as a child,

late at night wondering what it would feel like to tear my own flesh from bone.


i’m absentminded,

it sneaks up on me when i daydream;

the hatred for everything.

the urge to consume the world,

and  crack my teeth against it

have it scratch my throat when i swallow.

the hopelessness within like water on my hair.

it hangs heavy

and drags me down to the unforgiving murky depths

and makes me so violently ill.


it is such a forlorn feeling.

i dream of a building abandoned,

half rotted.

but the house is frozen in time


the food is still warm,

and like a resident evil boss,

i am the spine-chilling being that slowly descends the stairs,

a creature that used to be human.

maybe there is a flicker of emotion in my eyes.

i am not something that belongs in this pocket of reality.

but neither are you.


it is such an ugly feeling.

so consuming,

it eats me whole.

blood drips down my throat when i bite my tongue,

because it is a feeling that will dwell in my soul.

it will stand on top of my grave,

and stare with unblinking eyes past the dirt

and only leave when the sun unhinges its jaw to swallow the earth whole.

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