The opposite of destruction isn’t creation,
they are lovers. It is longevity,
holding ground, staying put
despite your fire;
your interminable insistence on
burning your bridges,
your babies, your body
at the stake you made
to display your fervid creations:
everything you ever loved that stayed,
gone, lay
slain.

What does metamorphosis feel like?
Like my skin tearing at the thread of each inside, and
stretching.
Stretching wide into wings of
bone and vine.

we are sharing visions;
you are scared but
running forward on the faith of
no traps:
I am machete in hand
walking towards you
slaughtering everything hidden

She is turning mice to men
and then is turning
men to wolves
to find him.

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