I keep my shedded skins under my bed,
Pressed against the box spring and the mattress, Sometimes i lay them out on my bedspread
And recall the cacophonous madness
That was my youth, i was a growing thing.
I wear the sloughed ribbons of my body
When i'm feeling wild and terrifying,
As proof that yes, ive lived as somebody,
As somebody loud and tossed by the sea. Another layer lost in streams of words,
One more skin shed under the willow tree. Sometimes they feel strange, kept just for records. They are lives i dont remember living
But I still keep them for reminiscing.

- i've lived so many lives