I come back to my empty apartment. Turn on the yellow lights.

Take off my black leather jacket and sticky red rubber boots.

My wool shirt, my faded jeans,

as I stand in front of the mirror:

The only object of reflection I posses; insufficiently superficial.

I stand before the image I see. The contours of my body carefully and precisely structured by the nude corset. Intentionally discolored to hide its work of bottling me into a shape. Distorting.

I take it off.

I see more marks inscribed on my body. Unrelentingly carving, more sternly than the piece I had dropped. Clothing me heavier than the winter garments at my feet. Weighing me down, rooting me, digging my feet deep into the Golden sand.

Song I'm listening to: Blue as your Blood - The Walkmen

Books I'm reading: More than I want to