As a child I used to hide from monsters under my sheets -
They weren’t under the bed, they were in the kitchen.
I could hear the echoes of their whispers curl round the edges of the door.
They‘d often push it open a crack.
I’d pretend to be asleep - that’s where I felt safest;
Sometimes I’d convince myself I really wasn’t conscious.
They’d slither away when they saw no light in my eyes to extinguish.
But they’d always leave the door open.
I used to watch the light from outside fight the shadows
I used to urge it to win.

By the crack of the door
I would crouch and listen  
And what I heard
Was my mother weeping,
“I wish my daughter would change.”
I stayed quiet so she wouldn’t hear me.
Every night, I got quieter still
Until she began to say instead,
“I wish my daughter would speak.”
And I wished I could give her what she wished for
But she didn’t understand
That it had been easy for me to **** her daughter
But seemed nearly impossible to build her a new one.

Things changed for me then -
I grew tired of watching the light try to harness and tame the darkness
(Or maybe the other way around).
I’d before felt things were black and white.
I’d seen the darkness as evil
And longed for the light,
But as time went on I learned that demons lurk in all wavelengths.
I was fickle; I flocked to the winning side.
I became convinced that darkness was safety,
That in it I could project what I wanted.
Then whenever they’d move away from the door
I’d tiptoe to close it.

What am I? I am a woman.
A woman fully equipped with an understanding that can only be achieved through exposure to atomic *******. After twenty-eight years of familiarity with the follies of man, I’ve grown. I’ve grown into wisdom, I’ve grown as a mother, sister, daughter.
I’ve also LITERALLY grown. I’m an eighty foot tall spectacle.

For the ****, abuse, **** pics, war, objectification, toxicity, and laws of MAN, I arise from the depths. My frame paints a terrifying silhouette against the sunset streaked horizon.
I am an atomic monstrosity, a giantess hellbent on conquering YOUR world: to rampage is an understatement.
Donning a crown of destruction, with massive hands dripping in palpable carnage, I am a disastrous threat to YOUR society.

Run for your lives, mother *******. We are all transforming. Women are GROWING in 2020. We are gnashing, stomping, fire breathing vehicles of YOUR apocalypse. We brought you into this world, surely we can take you out. You done ****** up.

Collectively, we are making our debut. You won’t know it until we’re looking down on you. Most will be eaten, some will be spared (you know, not “ALL” guys). Your tiny lifeless bodies will litter in the streets, but only for the day—
It’s a new dawn, and we she-monsters clean up our ******* messes.

Why am I so tight?
I don’t know.
Perhaps I am afraid of stepping on landmines
everywhere that I go;
perhaps I am afraid of the warzone
that lives inside the same walls that I do;
perhaps I am afraid of the nightmares
that visit every time I close my eyes;
perhaps
I am simply
afraid.
But it doesn’t make sense—
this fear that has stitched itself
into the seams of my soul
and whose whisper is louder
than even the slammed doors
of my battlefield house.
I was always taught
that the darkness of my bedroom
was never something to be afraid of,
and the monsters respected this
until age nineteen and one painkiller too many.
I was always taught
that wise friends were good friends,
and good friends were trusted friends—
but the first time I trusted my secrets to one,
my parents punished in blind offense
that it was not them
who were trusted.
Why am I so tight?
Perhaps I’ve learned that the more you open your mouth,
the more you regret it;
perhaps I’ve learned that the safest secret keeper
is your own heart and soul;
perhaps I’ve learned that watching your skin bleed
is the most calming medication there is;
perhaps
I do not consider myself
a friend.
Words must be weighed
before they meet any outside ear,
and if the inner heart does not wish to weigh them,
they will remain unknown.
So for as long as I am
afraid of myself,
I will not know myself—
and neither will any other soul.

i've dreamt of you.

i prophecized a boy
with charcoal eyes
would allow me to taste
his poison lips.

what secrets are hidden
in your dark gaze?

whisper sweet nothings
and
c u r s e s
to me as if
lullabies
were made to cut.

love me.

**** me.

you,
with your words dripping with honey.

you,
with your eyes like daggers and ice.

you,
with the way you make me want to
burn &
burn &
burn.

you
are the reason
demons &
angels
are so often confused.

I will keep you afloat when the tears of your pain threatens to drown you. I will shelter you from the storms of your memories. I am not afraid of your dark. I will wait in the shadows of your heart. I will be the hand you reach for from the depths of despair, banishing the monsters lurking beneath. Let me calm the tornadoes of your doubts and gouge the eyes of those that don’t value you. Don’t fear the future of your dreams. The wounds of life may have cracked you. But I still see you, not the broken and flawed, but the beauty that shines through your imperfections. I am not leaving your side, I am here, for you, always.