my second skin,

by Rachel Lynch in

A collection of letters lay on the floor, each one with enough words to cover your spine four times with the alphabet. The letters make up the words, the words like the bow and arrow. When you want to say something you must send it shooting through the woods, on a specific mission with point and shoot tacit. If you go about it any other way you are lazy, you are a coward.

I was brave enough to enter the forest, strong enough to hold my head above the temptations of the flesh. Weak enough to smell the blood. Nobody can take something away from you, you don't give them.