Book of Life

the moment I was born

the umbilical cord from my soul’s core

spiral bound my Book of Life with an unknown number of pages

transparent vellum paper

a scrapbook of sorts / where my soul records each day of this life

crayons and bloodstains

      pressed flowers and bruises

           masks and chains

                tears and tears

                          chocolate – or possibly shit

                              tequila and vomit

                hellos and goodbyes

                     poetry and screams

                          water and fire

layer upon layer, the pages overlay

the pain never gone but eventually opaque / as each day, week, month  

flips another page