I grew up believing that making myself small
was the key to fixing my broken family.

I broke my bones and cut off my limbs
So I could squeeze inside their box.
I made myself into something I never was,
Manageable, bite-sized pieces.
I made myself easy to digest.

If I was able to be less of myself,
I would make others whole.

I believe I was the key to a mangled, unfixable lock.
And all I had were bruised knuckles
And black eyes
And a butchered body lacking love.

I didn’t do the dishes today
Instead I played video games
And ordered takeout again
There are gnats in the kitchen
And I didn’t want to go in there

I didn’t make myself coffee today
Instead I stayed in my bed
And watched a show that I love
I didn’t want to go in there
There are gnats in the kitchen

I didn’t do the laundry today
Instead I wore the same clothes again
And the walls ate me alive
There are gnats in the kitchen
And I didn’t want to go in there

I didn’t take out the trash today
Instead I stared at my phone
And rotted with the takeout from yesterday
I didn’t want to go in there
There are gnats in the kitchen

I didn’t go outside today
Instead I let the blankets swallow me
And every day I’m more confined
There are gnats in the kitchen
And I don’t want to go in there

When it’s my turn to be reaped
- as I know it someday will be
- let my final, earthly verse be poetry.
Let the vast heavens weep,
may my wake not be cheap,
and peace be upon my coterie.

Humans are born into this world encumbered
with ignorance and spend a lifetime endeavoring
to overcome its grip. Sadly, most of us never do.

I'm not an 'ingénue' anymore - that’s been vitiated.
I'm not innocent, pure, naive or vulnerable -
which are technically, 'ingénue' requirements
(I don’t make the rules).

That being said, if no one has an objection,
in terms of narrative trajectory, I'd like to be
considered a 'fémme fatale' until further notice.
.
.
Songs for this:
HEATED by Beyoncé
Hysterical Us by Magdalena Bay

11am 08.12