If you had a soul,
I'd tear it to shreds
and tie it in a bow
as a gift for my
accursed companion.
I'm a friend of the devil.
Are you a friend of mine?

If I wrote it in blood,
would it mean more?

You are the sweetest of my torments.
You're the tangible torture of citrus
The bite followed by the ****
Fresh and unbearable in the same instance

You're the lemon zest scent;
Sultry, as I quarter fruit
In my hot summer kitchen.
You're the juice in the cut
As the knife knicks my thumb;
The sweetness meeting the wild coppery tang
of blood in my mouth.

You're in the twist in my chest
That exists somewhere between my heart and my stomach
Both organs being wrenched apart...
When I see your picture
And remember that we haven't spoken in months.

A symphony of modality,
Of fiction and reality.

With the rhythm of a syllogism
Of a logical decision.

A shallow sky, where rats fly
Singing lies to passersby
Amidst the cries and goodbyes
The night sighs, as glistening scythes
Steal souls and take lives

But nothing dies, nothing vanishes
in this cryptic lullaby

I'll start walking, I don't care what you say.
I'll start talking, I don't care to who you pray.

I'm done standing here watching you fly like I always do.
I'm not stranded here, it's time for something new.


So I leave you in this cryptic lullaby.

My body is not a temple,
and my mouth not meant to praise.
I ate the forbidden fruit;
in my Sunday best,
tasting the bitter juice
on my tongue while being reborn
in the glory of God’s plan.

Adam and Eve
Adam and Eve
Adam and Eve

but there’s no place for girls like me in heaven.
I’m not strong enough to rebuke the Devil,
to be cleansed of impurity.
I pray to be made normal,
for Jesus to lay healing hands
on my sick mind.
No longer a prisoner of my thoughts.

Repent
Repent
Repent

I’ve mastered deception,
letting boys kiss my neck
with lips that feel like church.
I touch the right spots,
make the proper sounds,
if I close my eyes tight I can drift away.
The Lord’s will be done.

Lies
Lies
Lies

I’m left with boiling blood
that reeks of self-loathing.
And I hate god,
for declaring me an abomination
because I will never serve my husband,
and dream of loving a girl
that doesn’t make my skin crawl.

I will be free
I will be free
I will be free

I am not ashamed.
And I am not afraid to die,
bathed in the sin of my sexuality;
for any deity worth worship
will not close the gates to paradise
because of how I’m made.
I am worthy.

My body is not a temple,
but it will be reclaimed.

-K.M.

I am Persephone;
queen of the cursed and the ******,
bogged down by chains made of
greed and desperation.
My value lies on a stained mattress;
my worth measured by the broken fingernails
left on the skin of my paychecks,
fragments of myself given for an hour of their pleasure.
I know nothing but chapped lips and blissful vacancy,
outstretched hands met with violence.
I am no longer a spring flower;
wilted beyond recognition,
I am better suited for examination under glass than
I ever was for life in damp alleys.
But for all my inadequacies,
there are three things for which I'm certain:
there's a price to pay for naivety,
innocence is a lie,
and we're not all created equal.
A pretty face is worth its weight in gold;
sold to the highest bidder,
there's no room for integrity
when wolves are nipping at your heels.
hard years have taught me this:
silver spoons nourish the undeserving
and even the virtuous come with a price tag.
We are all marred by what we do to get by, and ideas mean nothing
if wrapped in the skin of a *****.
And it makes me wonder;
which one weighs more,
a pound of flesh,
or a pound of promise.

- K.M.