Skin on Skin and Broken Spines

Ash Sturg
Ash Sturg
Nov 7 · 1 min read
Photo by Jairo Alzate on Unsplash

In a church parking lot, black
with sticky new tar and irony, It found
the weak spaces and clawed its way in.
At first, flames tore from my ragged throat,
fangs snapped for an ear of justice-
but it wisened up and cloaked itself instead
with the tenor of my voice, the stale smell of my fear.
Invisible bones settled into my soul.
My shoulders are strengthened to bear this burden.
Oh, the threads we spin and cling to
while the parasites…

You've completed your member preview for this month, but when you sign up for a free Medium account, you get one more story.
Already have an account? Sign in

Ash Sturg

Written by

Ash Sturg

Boston raised mountain dweller ▲ Musing in watercolor + ink ▲ My writing studio is often a McDonald’s playplace ▲ instagram.com/ash.muses

Scribe

Scribe

Stories that matter. Emotion first and foremost.

Welcome to a place where words matter. On Medium, smart voices and original ideas take center stage - with no ads in sight. Watch
Follow all the topics you care about, and we’ll deliver the best stories for you to your homepage and inbox. Explore
Get unlimited access to the best stories on Medium — and support writers while you’re at it. Just $5/month. Upgrade