detached

my arm seems to be pulled out by the root

nothing soothes

like a stone through a veil of dust

my upper arms

firmly attached

to the sides

of my torso

as if they were arms

of the Greek gods

these with disconnected and non-existent limbs

that have not stood the test of time

from where

all affairs

are cooked

against my will

to feel

detached

scratched

smothered with mud

in a place where no one can enter

although I have my eye on someone

no one wants to wander there with me

in this agonising and scary environment

full of sharp spikes and briery bushes

but also, beauty in its purest form

oh, what a shame you'll never see it!