i fell asleep in the sun today. i was going to read a chapter or two and when i woke time had passed to nearly write a book.
i'm burned badly.
there is a phoenix under the skin on my chest. it's twisting fiery wings up and out and scratching at the inside of me. i can feel every inch of happy that was once on my skin being carved out and replaced with tiny cells of lava and itch.
i go outside once a year to see if there is still a sun. much like the ground hog but without the wisdom of the coming winter (or summer) or whatever the fkuc the ground hog knows about.
this was my day. there is indeed still a sun. it is indeed stonger than the ones i used to color with sunglasses and smiles in my children's coloring book.
the sun left his thumb print upon my shoulders and chest. i can see the loops and swirls of his folds mashed up on the high points of my pectorals and on the bones and pink highlights. the white folds that were shaded are glowing yellow against all the otherwise pale burgundy flesh.
for g_d's sake, surely this has been a mistake. learn from this post. so that you won't end up pink toast, like me.