"you walk through my walls / like a ghost on tv / you penetrate me" -ani

i have deep bruises that surface randomly, aching violet and tender green, wrists and hips and thighs, strangers which show up without invitation or precluding event. they are fading now, most of them, turning sickly yellow, staining my skin.

there have been bruises i bore proudly, badges of courage from drawnlong das boot games or kickboxing classes gone awry, a black eye well-earned by a ten foot fall face first into a granite boulder. there have certainly been a good number of bruises resulting from nothing more than an ill-placed table edge, or occassionally blossoming around the crescentshaped scab of a bloodgiving. i bruise often, i bruise easily, and i almost always know what injury lurks behind the welling of blood beneath my skin.

but i now i am hurt and i don't know why.