skin reading

i know a pen and paper can keep me sane during dire situations of my life.
with pen and paper, you’re god.

you create, you destroy, you give life, you are the boss of your realm.
you are the master of your immediate status quo.

i know writing could preserve the tiniest bit of my sanity just like this girl with a spider tattoo in front of me.

the spider hangs low on a thread of web tattoo that runs down her arm. it stops at a spot close to her wrist.

my mind interprets the signs: the clinging spider, the thread that runs down her arm- she must be a clingy person.

the girl wears a skin that looks like a sun-baked salmon. it’s pinkish but it’s brownish too.
on her lap is a medium sized camouflage messenger bag where she withdraws a 9 ½ x 11 ½ notebook
the notebook is covered in a black leathery material decorated with silver caricatures of spiked creatures.

on her side is an almost empty liter of water bottle.

a moss green cadet cap slightly tames her extremely dry and sticky hair. imagine cracking an egg to your head and have it dry out in the sun- that’s her hair.

her facial features resemble that of the late brittany murphy circa clueless days. i admit, the face is a factor that draws me into her. that makes her more interesting.

she is sobbing. she looks pretty high with something but definitely not cannabis. she doesn’t smell at all.

she’s dirty. like literally dirty.

she starts to write the moment the old guy acting and trying to look like steven tyler (who also offers her a place to stay the next night) left the train.

her fat, cursive penmanship reveals that she is trying to make her way back to new york. she is writing a letter for her bestfriend and is apologizing for being a shitty friend. she tells the bestfriend that she does not live on the same place anymore so there’s no need to send her letters on her old address.

“i am trying to make my way back but i don’t know where to start. please never tell anyone that i am lost.”

my mind answers back: “you’re not lost.”

i pull my coat sleeves up.

i summon a spider web shaped pattern from my memory and started to draw it on my wrist.
the pattern was lifted from the paper i got from my dad’s clenched fist when i found him lying on a scarlet pool from the apartment one night.

i always have the desire to have it tattooed on my wrist so i can always carry it with me but i fear that other people could easily see it.

for some reason, the pattern has helped me find my way whenever i feel lost. i rarely use it though. i don’t want people to see or notice that i don’t know what i am doing. i like to keep going. i like to keep moving so i feel like something is actually happening.

i think this girl’s spider could use my web today.

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