#071/100 Mud

fill me with mud to stop my body from burning:
small, circular veins bursting down my thighs.
clad me in a cold, iron amor while i lose such
compulsion of colors, shivers stripped of their
shine on a lost night. the last snowstorm took
the locks off your gate & icicles slid down my
fingers. since then i've been running to where
the sun turns mourners into surf, dried traces
on sand & dirt of one's choosing. pick it up,
my new disappearance. throw it to the side.