“There’s something so instinctual and so primal that’s released once you create a work, and once you’re proud of that work, there’s something primal within all of us that needs to be brought out, and if it isn’t, you suffer.” –Hayden Maltese

“Ladybugs”

Fiction. Based on a True Editing Process.

By Nikki Wicz

This journal entry is inspired by true events. Some of the characters, names, businesses, incidents, and certain locations and events have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes. Any similarity to the name, character or history of any person is entirely coincidental and unintentional

I write as a form of masochism.

Memory drifts easily
into my veins
Like an anesthetic,

But I like to scratch
At my arms until
Old scabs bleed again, so I can spill

Onto a page. The loss of blood
Blurs my vision, so that my skin
Looks like it’s crawling
With ladybugs.  

I wrap them up
So that they are trapped,
Pressed against me,
Scurrying into the pores.

After a few days
when I’m ready
To see, I let the bandages

Come undone and my skin
Pulses with the breath
And energy of a thousand wings.

I might be sore and black
With bruises, but my scars

Make a collage
Of time rewritten.