Poetry

Self Love is a Form of Rebellion

I was born onto a sphere and raised into a box 

with paintbrush arms and winged feet, 

ever expansive, whole, and complete, 

Dancing deliriously into oblivion with 

stardust in my lungs and songs in my veins   

I tasted infinity before they taught me to count time. 

In school They lined us up

one by - 

one by -

one by -

one -  

in a monotonous drone,

I left my limbs on a classroom floor when They 

Branded my imagination as insubordination.

Purging star 

dust from my lungs

I gnawed at my wings 

for a place to sit at lunch,

And with blood in my teeth I smiled 

as They poured lead into my boots 

to stop my feet from dancing.

Thirsting for acceptance in a drunken reverie 

for the few bits I had left of me

Slipping away slipping apart-

My arms reached out for help, but 

the only hands I could find 

were pointing down at me

 from the clock on the wall.

Tick, tock.

Tick, tock.

Hit, Mock.

I shriveled myself into a mold 

I had shrunken too small for, and as I

lost myself slipping through the cracks,

I felt a burning in my skull

  pulling me back to heaven 

by way of hell.

Awaken.

The volcano lay dormant  in my skull,

A hellish flame angelic glow

Illuminating the vicious, fictitious 

haze I was choking on

  “You’re too strange to be loved”

 “You’re too different to belong”

“You’re much too much and you’ll never be enough”

ENOUGH!

I sank my teeth into the soil to plant roots 

with the only voice that could speak for me,

Replacing their worn out mold with 

my own warm embrace,

I made myself a home within the bones 

I was taught were my cage.

The Spectrum of Duality

I buried a prism at the pit of my stomach 

So when my heart sank, light exploded 

through the cracks and I felt rainbows

radiating from the darkest corners of my skull.

    I am not

the shadows where I hide,

    I am not

the spotlight where I dance,

I am 

blurred across every shade of grey 

that has stained me colorblind.

The moonlight convinced me that

tears had painted me Blue, but

When the sun Rose I discovered

my pages were still Read

in between lines of light and

Dark, a violet realization that

All the colors in the mirror

 were melted into a wavelength.

A Queen’s Call to Arms

You saved my place at the head of the table with a place card

 that read: Marie Antoinette

And I forgot all our history to make room for dessert.

A craving for Cake A craving for lust

A gash on my neck A pain in my ass

An early call for revolution A 3 am text for devolution

“Hey you up? I miss you”

My eyes roll around my skull My skull rolls around your floor

I should’ve known you only wanted head.

Sex ain’t intimacy but it sure feels nice

My Bedside table is littered with ropes & lube & paddles & collars.

But I crave soft kisses, warm soup, and to be hugged from behind.

Simply, to be held.

The Carnal craving for flesh beats like a war drum.

But the lamb fears the wolves who want her meat, not her softness.

Hourglass Sand Castles (Susan Briante exercise) 

Warm evenings caressed by the breeze

Swelling with benevolent indifference

As I built castles

In the hour glass sand. 

What does time eat

While our attention is fasting?

“I really like him, but I just don’t have time right now.”

“It hasn’t even started but I’m already behind.”

“I love you, but I’m late!”

We’re all waiting for something.

But, Death waits for no one.

The golden glow at my core

Reminds me where I am;

Present.

The pricks at my spine

Remind me when I am;

Late.

Age stretches time as a whole

But contracts time as an experience.

Whimsical hours spent spinning in the park

At the high noon of childhood

Now, in the dawn of adulthood,

shrunk to a 20 minute jog

Around the outside.

The moment ever fleeting,

Embers of memories ever burning.

A warm glow of the past,

A tan that won’t fade until I die.

Prose

Conversations with the Void

At the edge of infinity sat two old friends who had yet to formally meet. The two friends had a lifetime of intrinsically interconnected paths that was now coming to a crossroads on the precipice of eternity. These two ships passing in the night had finally found themselves docked in the same port, the same one in which the Ferryman passed through twice a day.

On one side sat a young girl with golden curls and tender smile, who was just as curious as she was innocent. The young girl couldn’t have been older than 8, but she was brave beyond her years and wise enough to know the difference between dangerous and disturbing, which kept her blissfully inquisitive disposition at homeostasis, despite the fact that her body was the furthest it had ever been from home.  Beside her sat a concept enclosed in enigma, adorned in slick black cloak that dragged across the floor like a freshly ashed cigarette. His name was Death and depending on where his acquaintances hail from, his appearance may differ drastically from the hooded bones this little girl encountered. An acquaintance from India might be greeted by a royal blue man with several arms known as Yama, while a comrade from Mexico might conceive a brightly decorated skeleton woman by the name of Santa Muerta. But seeing as this child was visiting from Kansas (using the term “visiting” loosely, in the way a run away would describe themselves in a new city), what she saw beside most closely resembled the iconography of the Grim Reaper. Luckily for her, the Grim Reaper was a far more affable harbinger of death than the Hindu god of death and destruction, making him far better company for the curious young child as they waited patiently for oblivion. The two sat side by side, staring off into an endless abyss with a sense of placid contentedness that would have been more suited for a park bench then Purgatory.

“Have you ever been inside there?” the little girl asked, pointing towards the abyss before them, before opening up her skittle stained hands to reveal a candy offering for her new friend. The Reaper knew his body had no place for skittles, but he was so moved by her generosity that he wanted to take one just to be polite. Instead, he decided not to grace her with his fatal touch. Just to be polite. 

“Only every time I walk home” he responded Grimly.

“What’s it like in there?” the young girl inquired, stuffing her face with a handful candies too bountiful to fit inside her tiny mouth.

“Endless” The Reaper sighed as he parodied the motion of a man checking his wrist for the time. He knew full well time no longer existed between them, but the weight of passing moments made him long for a clock. 

“But how do you know that for sure? I mean, there can’t just be one end place, ya know? My grandma has 2 back doors but one is hidden.” Rainbow colored saliva dripped off the sides of her lips, staining her face with an endearing shade of carelessness.

“Hmmm… Your granny sounds like a nice lady, I feel like I might have met her before” Death chuckled to himself.

“Probably not, my grandma is dead. So is my mom, and my dog, my neighbor’s cat, and the bus driver who used to drive me to school. My sister says they all went to Heaven, but I’ve never seen heaven, so I’m pretty sure they’re just dead.” The little girl’s eyes remained locked in contact with the dark shadows of Death’s cloak where she imagined his eyes must be, her innocent countenance unwavering under the weight of her assumptions about the end. 

Death fought back an unfamiliar urge to tell her that they were in a better place. But he stopped himself before succumbing to a comfortable cliche. He decided that no child deserves to be lied to, so he circumvented her remark by telling her something true instead. “All of my friends are dead.”

“That’s not true!” the child giggled. “I’m your friend and I’m right here with you, so now you have at least one friend who’s not dead!” Death said nothing, internally reminding himself why it’s best to stay silent in his line of work. 

Confused by his reticence, the little girl took his response, or lack thereof, as a sign of rejection. “So… does this mean you don’t want to be friends with me?” The child’s face contorted in disappointment, displaying more of an impact towards the hint of Death’s rejection than her direct acknowledgment of his handiwork.

The Reaper averted the child’s piercingly warm gaze, turning his head away from the pouty lips and swelling eyes quivering beside him, to fix his glance on the distance. He stared blankly into the abyss trying to construct a horizon out of its endlessness, an impossible task to distract him from the guilt knotting up his stomach. Much to Death’s relief, a hauntingly dark Ferry emerged from the void to greet the two friends sitting beside it's dock. What was a familiar vessel for Death’s journey home, would soon bring more transformation than transportation for it’s newest passenger. The Reaper cleared his throat and snapped himself out of his diffidence, before turning back to face the small child seated besides him.

“How would you like to go on a boat ride?” Death asked the child with an echo of reluctance clinging to his voice.

“I’ve never been on a boat ride before!” the child exclaimed with the heart piercing exuberance of her youth. 

“Well then, this will surely be a very exciting boat ride for you. Just remember one thing.” Death responded without making eye contact with the child, keeping his gaze fixed on the encroaching ship. “Don’t tip the Ferryman until he gets you to the other side.” The golden ringlets of the little girl’s hair bounced fervently along with her bobbing head, as she nodded in compliance to his warning.

The child’s eyes widened with excitement as she caught a glimpse of the shadowy ship creeping towards them. As the ship sailed closer the little girls skin grew increasingly pale in stark contrast to the violet hue coloring her lips. Overwhelmed by her eager anticipation for her first boat ride, the girl was too distracted to notice the fat and muscles that anchored her flesh to it’s bones, gently withering away with each crashing wave the Ferry coaxed onto the shore. By the time the boat had stopped in front of them, the little girl’s sparkling blue eyes had sunken into 2 perilous black holes buried into her tiny pale face. Heart stopping terror would surely overcome the child if she were to look into a mirror at this point, but luckily there wasn’t any light near the water that could reflect the little girl’s horrifying transformation back to her.

“Shall we?” Death asked politely, reaching out his hand to lead the child onto the boat, no longer afraid to grace her with his touch. As her small fragile fingers wrapped around his bony grip, the child’s flesh evaporated into a dark smoky haze. Following the Reaper’s lead, the little girl tiptoed onto the ship’s deck, careful not to rock the boat, as her deathly pale skin melted into the darkness beneath where she planted her feet. Still unaware of the grave transformation overcoming her existence, the child let out a spirited squeal of excitement that landed with the heavy thud of her final breath. As the last of her remaining light slipped through the cracks in the ship to join the murky onyx waters below, the little girl who had once stared curiously into the endless abyss now became endless herself.