Uncategorized – Page 142

Surely you stay my certain own, you stay
My you. All honest, lofty as a cloud.
Surely I could come now and ding you high,
As mine as you ever were; should not be awed.
Surely you word would pop as insolent
As always: “Why, of course I love you, dear.”
Your gaze, surely, ungauzed as I could want.
Your touches, that never were careful, what they were.
Surely — But I am very off from that.
From surely. From indeed. From the decent arrow.
That was my naiveté and my faith.
This morning men deliver wounds and death.
They will deliver and wounds tomorrow.
And I doubt. You. Or a violet.

–Love Note 1: Surely by Gwendolyn Brooks

“I eat in pink restaurants which are better for the skin. Yellow turns you yellow. I actually spend time thinking about this. Vanity is becoming a nuisance; I can see why women give it up eventually. But I’m not ready for that yet.”

–margaret atwood

“Do not worry about failure. Failure is a badge of honor. It means you risked failure.”–Charlie Kaufman

I felt her thin fingers caress my neck, leaving me tingling.
And then her two palms took hold of my throat, squeezing, leaving me breathless.

(two sentence horror stories: the woman who walked out of walls)

datura moon is a game of witches.

there’s nothing scarier than twelve powers at your bedside blowing ardent lullabies and telling you “it’s ok, it’s alright, there’s only one snake in the bunch.”

“there’s nothing more terrifying than your coven turning on you last minute.”

“i don’t know.”

“what’s more scary?”

“imagine getting ready to be hung for sport by a dozen men with a penchant for raping their victims first.”

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.

i love you despite what you did to me.

“how to free yourself”

did a mouse steal your tongue?
am I the cat dragging it back
with an allusion to love
for the one who keeps her
hanging in a net, chained
to a bedpost while you
burn the place down.
you never entertain me with your stories.
I never leave your crystal balls alone:
knock them about and keep them
hidden from you.

but I slaughtered that mouse.
yeah, i ripped it’s throat clean
out, trapped my bitches in the
basement until nightfall.
didn’t I kill for you?
isn’t trial love?
a more violent truth serum
I offer than most; I rip answers
with my sudden eruption of flames
directed your way
(but hey you stoked it)
but I leave some blue vervain
on the dresser to soothe you,
mention it’s good for clarity and
joint pain.
no burn salve, something
slightly bitter.
final act of cruelty.
you chose solution in someone else,
and the lie.
I chose to withhold an antidote to your
meek eternity.
had I said “I love you despite what
you’ve done to me “
I know you would have stayed.

but vengeance tastes sweeter
than pride as you’ll soon
see. the way I devour,
the way I spit you back up.
the way I make you

taste yourself.
you? you will know
me by my title.
wait.
wait.
wait.
wait.