I am the burning girl,
born from the fires
of some hell
that I never believed in.
Thus maybe
I was destined
to walk life lonely,
staggering ghost,
sucked and drained
of the venom
that I had martyred myself to
because it had kept me alive
for so long,
and it felt to me that the monster was the only one
who seemed to stay through it all,
no matter the earth and her tilting,
or the dead,
and their sweet sighing.
Always the addict
to the wild and profane,
chained to the hurricane
whilst I slurred and staggered,
still clutching my third eye open
to witness the way my storms
seem to fall and faint into
paralysis,
cant get out of bed,
cant get out of bed
and then when the winds change,
oh just ever so slightly,
the mayhem sirens come colliding
with a burst of
energy,
sex, and
paranoia,
seeking out those
sweet suicide angels and
the harlequin saints
that gleaned glee and grins
from shoving me
back down the rabbit hole,
even when I begged,
oh please,
to the sky with no god,
I cannot withstand
the weeping waves,
the pounding voices
of pain in my head
when the lights flickered out
before bed.
And later in life
I lived with spiders
and their teeth,
for they were unafraid of my blistered skin
and would sing
their webbed tales of woe
to lull me to sleep,
in the heat
and the rain.
And I had tried
to shake you
from that sticky prison
that was stuck in your throat,
but you would have
none of it,
so I became
the beast you blamed
but still couldn’t tame
or shut up
no matter how loud
you screamed in my face.
Yet I,
Wasn’t,
Moving.
No, not for you.
Snakes in the garden,
snakes in the garden,
I don’t know how I sensed
them there
for they did not
make a single sound
but I knew,
almost as if Id seen all this before,
I just goddamn knew
(and honey don’t you dare get angry with me
because I did try to warn you
when my visions
started bleeding from my eyes again)
that soon their hissing
would thunder
through the streets,
making even the rainbows shudder,
and I knew
I would never sleep again.
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