I coulda smiled

Nights when filth builds up in my skin,
or Days when I can sweat it all away,
some days just too stubborn to persuade,
so then closing my eyes is the sole cure,
now and then, I coulda shied aways away,
I coulda smiled in echoes of broken mirrors,
who'll wear my face in a hundred shapes,
or surrendered myself to an improv rehersal,
where I secretly memorized all of the words,
where I'll brand them inside the blistering sun,
until the moment I finally... cease to speak them.
ink poisoned skin will just tear itself apart,
waiting for just anyone to read what's there,
sometimes there's just nothing that can be said,
even so, words can't even compare to... this....