I made
a beautiful space
in the corner
of my shade,

turned venom
into lace
and raced away
from your hate,

swirled quicksand
with my tired hands,

petted pretty vipers
that hissed,
slithering
to where I stand,

chased fireballs
that were ready
to consume me.

I pursued
my own agony,
bit my tongue
to taste
my own blood,
then spit it out
not in spite
but to watch
the red grow.

I wept in
the spider’s den
embedded in
a cloud of webbing.

I slept in
the sinking ship
that fell into
the cold underwater
abyss.

I lay afraid
to move
and died in
the infinite
eternal
black
that was once
beautiful,
until
it collapsed
and took
all the warmth
I ever had
back.