If the eyes are the gateway
to the soul, then I have
seen hell fire, and the
lights of heaven.

He claims me to be an
angel but I don't think he
sees the murky water full
of my pollution in my entire
being.
Eyes looking like a sea during
a storm.
So how can he claim me to
be so calm.
I am a life raft being
crushed under my own chaotic
waves of temper.

My body feels as
if it lives on a slab. How
can you claim that I am
so alive.

I will not deny that I am
strong. To a degree.
I will not claim to be a
lamb asking for more people
to try and butcher me.
Only rabid beasts
feed because there is meat.

They say my sweet blood
attracts mosquitos.
My rotten flesh attracts
maggots.
My short dress attracts the
monster.
Feeding on flesh they
strip away from my bones
with their teeth.

The cobra of my nightmares
loved to toy with me. I was
not a meal. I was play time.
He loved to watch me squirm.

He locked me away in a box
of secrets, of bruises, and
stolen virginities.
You can't lie down with the
enemy without getting *****.
I am still drawn to the
smell of his poison. I once
mistook it for home.
I got choked up on his
fumes of arrogance.
The *******
intended to **** me.
But he only freed
who I was meant
to be, a bit too soon.

I crumbled. I
wasn't in ruins for
long though. Like a much
needed bridge, I was
rebuilt quickly. Only to
extend my usage time.
Though, unlike the engineers
I learned.
  I used stronger materials.
  Dark methods no one would
  attempt to undo to get a
  snip of my wool.
  I became a goat instead.
A symbol of the unholy.
I thought it was
fitting, seeing how you
injected me with that
exact same thing.

You didn't feed it to
me, make me drink it,
or force it upon me.
you only planted it.
I watered it.
I watered
the being I was
to the point of
drowning.

You injected it like
a serum to fix my
paralyzed state.
Like a ******
addict absorbs their
dope in hopes they
actually see god this
time.

Unlike his brother,
I don't need opiates
to feel at home.
In jesus's arms.
All I have to do is
look in his eyes.

They're still bright.
Still...
I had a friend, when my
eyes were lightning.
He told me to burn
bright.
But you see,
I'm not very good at
listening.

I've used up that flame
to build my body, ground-up
with day dreams I was a phoenix.
I am vibrations
lost on the
decibel scale.
Screams stuck in
ears of the dead.
The tortured only
enduring what they
fought for.
We all knew what was
at risk
choosing this life.
I'm always gambling
my freedom.
Funny how we throw away
things we only lusted
after.
Especially when they get
boring, decayed in place.
Now what's really
tedious is when lost
dreams rot in your
brain like inoperable
cavities.