Tattoo

Love and Hate The needle pierces. Euphoria overwhelms me as blood red ink oozes like molten magma, nourishing the paper thin epidermis of my soul. Beads of sweat gather on my brow, cold as the morning dew, I call your name but you don’t answer. Innocence lost. Only to be found in ugly scar tissue, cleverly concealed like an unwanted tattoo. I am your whore— your graffiti junkie in need of a fix.