There are cracks

There are cracks

Parchment thin

The only things

To stop

Me falling apart

Are the double stitches

Sutured with

Darning needles

I am an old sock

Barely an original thread left

A leaky tap

A water skin

‘Old soak’ is written

Across my forehead

Invisible to you

But I know it’s there

Marking me down

Perhaps we all carry our scars

In the

Water marks

Visible

Under the spotlight

Facing the tribunal

Judge me not

That I might judge myself

Always less

Forever wasted

Evading

My own approval

The cheapest of shots

Strip me down

Scour the rot

Of saturation

Too easily left

Sweat it out

Leave me high and dry

My skin

Is more brittle

Than a cutting word

Cracks show through

Where rough edges

Rub me up

The wrong way

Tear me into strips

Perhaps if I keep going

I will reform

Into an approximation