Skin

I live in my rib cage, spending most days
Trying to crawl up and out of my throat.
Some days I’d like to crack my sternum
And slither out from between the pieces.

Broken, bloody, encased no more,
Finally free to peel off my skin layer
By too-tight, nausea-inducing layer.
My body is the only thing that can hurt.

Who will I be without nerve endings
For you to hold a live wire against?