there is a song inside of my chest it
begs to be born from my naked breast
it comes to me in lullabies and keeps me from rest i find the goddess of earth in my dreams
a quest of solitude that only the soil can give me i feel
unraveled at the spine and
crave the blessing of death not for
the fear of life but merely the romance of the unknown
i speak words of love to all who
cross me i whisper intimacy
to my familiars all those whom are
dear to me are my soulmates
i was made
to love to be crucified
for sharing my body
*** is a gift
my body is communion
my divinity comes at the expense
of knowing myself
the sacred earth whispers to me words of mourning i cry for its
and share myself to sacrifice
for the land which built me
this came to me late at night in winter
i leave behind residue in beds
i am grimy and saturated from dirt
my muddy footsteps follow you into the bathroom and i smudge the mirror with my fingers, crusted and cracked from the heat
i follow the shadow of the sun and trail their streaks of death
it drips down my thighs and stains your carpets
i am vermin i am disease i am death and decay
my stench sullies the walls and my greasy hair sours your stomach
you pinch your nose as i pass by and i cannot find it in me to blame you. i would too.
i feel so gross
to think that your first hard grip on my wrist wouldn't be the last
to think that i don't know what love should taste like
to think that your yells were out of care
to think that my hurt felt like home.
my home was hurt because you supplied it
your voice brought me back down to the earth
the bitter taste at the tip of my tongue was a gift from you
your hands a reminder of where exactly I belonged
I saw your eyes for the first time in a year
and for once my heart did not stutter
yet I returned home and washed the sheets
merely to rid myself of clutter.
you are seventeen and he is younger but so much bigger. you feel like a doll in his palm. you are unaware that his hands between your legs is a contract. He lays you down on your back, and you turn your heard to the TV. Moana is playing.
2. he pulls you to his chest and you whisper, "promise me I won't regret it." he smiles and kisses your forehead. the next day, he tells you he doesn't know if he loves you or not. you regret it.
3. you are almost asleep and his hands keep wandering. you close your eyes tighter. you wish you were dead.
4. he tells you that you don't have to do it if you don't want to, but you know that it's the only way to keep him from leaving. Afterwards, he wipes the tears from your chin and holds you close to his heart, so gentle and soft. you almost feel at home.
5. he leaves. You have to begin picking up the pieces somewhere but you never really find out where to start. a year passes. It has been twelve months of rain but the sun begins to peak out behind its curtain of clouds. you rest.
four stories about it and one about after.
i feel quite insignificant
like a small, frail, broken-winged bird
cradled in the hand of a man who does not know I am fragile
i am made of glass and ribbons which bind my feet to this wretched earth
they are chains around my beaten ankles
my sin is the floor beneath where I stand.
my wings were once whole, beautiful, unbroken things
but he held them too tightly
they crumbled in his hands
I can wash my bedsheets a thousand times and yet this bed is no longer ******* mine