this is the day I will not
apologize to myself for living.
well, thriving.
well,
being.

dogs are tame, meek
until the conversion
by the pure blood,
the undisturbed
undistilled taste
of a son
fresh killed.
after, the pet is
forever enamored
with bloodlust.

this is the day I'm standing
coffee in hand
waiting
for the tremors the all over shakes
the screams the curses
the balled up fists. teeth
sharpen themselves for my body
natural & automatic
as pupils dilating
adjusting to new circumstances
while I pace the floor
spiraling inside
unconscious of the change in myself;
the personal exorcism.

I'm surrounded by a halo of
good intentions.
I am a daughter of Cain,
born bad to the marrow.
Listen to me dog, before you start to whine.
That side's yours;
this side Mine.