Here I Am

I sniff glue
to keep my organs in place,
but the PVA keeps peeling away.
I want to be paint
Splattered, smudged and layered
All over the walls of this box.
The scabs cracking.
Here I am.
Not the paint.
The dirty brush in the jar,
Washing colour into colour,
This rainbow runs black.
Solid Brass,
dancing like the ocean,
burning the tips of your fingers.
No salty surf to dry my skin,
Only lighter fluid.
Filling my lungs cold,
I am clean.

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