Nude Shell

[fluorescent.43]

Third revision (finalish?--who knows):

citrus scents the wet air;
water drifts down the small of my back,
glides across the curve of my thigh.

nothing will remove the blood
running down my calf,
fanning out in the water
like a cut orchid. the redness
propagates across the veneer of my eye.

it won't stop.

you're dirty, sick.
...an anomaly.

i touch my breasts,
coldly.

[[note: scrapped the train metaphor... is this one slightly better? or should i just scrap the metaphor altogether? i added a line below the second stanza... i like the line itself, but i'm worried that it disrupts the intended brevity or clarity or flow or whatever you call it.]]

Second revision:

citrus scents the wet air;
water drifts down the small of my back,
glides across the curve of my thigh.

nothing will remove the blood
running down my calf
like a train headed for hell,
searching for a
murky breath of immortality.

it won't stop.

you're dirty, sick.
...an anomaly.

i touch my breasts,
coldly.

First revision:

citrus scents the wet air;
water drifts down the small of my back,
glides across the curve of my thigh.

nothing will remove the blood
running down my calf
like a train headed for the sun,
searching for a
breath of immortality. 

you're dirty, sick.
...an anomaly.

i touch my breasts,
coldly.

that's right.
a... fucking monster.

[[note: should i expand on the last two stanzas?]]

Original:

citrus scents the wet air;
water drifts down the small of my back,
the curve of my thigh.

nothing will remove the blood
running down my calf
like a train wreck
headed for wide-eyed glory.

you’re dirty, sick.
…an anomaly.

i touch my breasts,
coldly.

that’s right.
i’m a fucking monster!