Cracks

 

I feel them starting to appear,

all over worn pale skin.

Old, cracked paving,

fissures in flat features.

Weathered

like a lizard creature.

 

I feel those spidery threads

starting to tear at my skin again.

A map covered with roads for petrolheads,

potholed veins, land feeling the strain.

I'm just the countryside being torn to pieces

and my body is ripped at the creases.

 

There used to be land aplenty

now there are just roads and fences,

like a patchwork pullover.

I feel the cracks start to take over

every inch of my body.

I used to be able to hide the ripped seams.

But now

there are more holes than fabric it seems.

 

 

Thanks for reading

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Kyle