A Scream

Bandage trails scattered at my feet
Some of us have scars left pink and white from wounds-
My markings are raw; gangrenous although from many yesteryears ago
a cats jagged claw cut, infected with the the pus of a swift swat
left to to fester. To feed the maggots of a busied brain
Thoughts follow thoughts which preceded thoughts, who’s whispers turn to screams in the brightest sun of the day 
One million miles away is the plateau of peace   
it does not beckon or tempt
it offers not a wink or nod but thrusts forth a frigid shoulder never warm enough on which to shed a withered tear
I am perpetually gouged 
infinitely ripped and scabbed 
Never to heal
Never to rest 
Never to bask or break through the black mud hole swamp
I wreak of the wreckage 
only to for a millisecond fraudulate a glimmer of glitter
only enough to have you hope that my marking will scar over and be but a memory of distant slaughter
but the trick is on you
for once you reach for my golden cheek
it melts within your grasp 
a bloody molten lava revealed as my first and last word 
a scream