Soul's Dwelling

Your skin is just a dirty shell,
where all the rain and
tired sighs have made their landing,
drawn their lines in your arms
and built their homes,
founded empires
of bruises and scars and little
dark splotches of
melanin deposits,

but your bones, your bones
which those spiraling cities have
tried to uncover, in abrabrasive
mining and scratching,
pulling and churning your
stomach in nervous fear
and elation, your bones
are the frontier of discovery,
the deepest darkest pit
of your soul's
dwelling.