The demon clutches in the belly like a claw that screws as well as grabs. It hurts better that way in the deepest way. The darkest way. Wa

Because I thought I saw Jesus within the pulsating wall A prophetic drawl Pathetic bawling Incessantly crawling back beneath the...

I stood at the edge of the reflecting pool With water cascading, lush and cool I jumped into that pool of sun And sank simply down with lungs That filled easily and felt freely To live and breathe each day brimming In that reflecting pool When God reflects, I thought, it might be something Fresh like this with cold gulps of water between billowing breaths I sat and thought that I’d lived for a day Until I realized that I was in shades of grey Like concrete smacks! But blue at

You’re like a force field that contains the blaze in me because you learned to grip fire with your hands You’re a phosphoric, Promethean Man That bends light to you Clenched in your hands to Mold like clay the silhouette and form It’s not that I disdain the flame or the fierceness from which it storms But I shift to mirage my glow In folds of gold And blackest smoke licking at the vision, Blinding from the sides of that dark fission Missing you nearly, blooming in ash I could

The key is to detach and then to reduce it down to the roots, strong solemn things that grip the body, and smooth out the mind in copse rippled monotony. It’s the giving in of things and letting out of things until the spine bends the wrong way, then sets, waiting to be snapped back, not at once but continuously creaking at the vertebrae. One, two, and three. Society does take its toll on me and I learn that I cannot bend the wrong way as other people before me, trying to de

I quiver like the white moth I found perched on my bedroom wall. Bad news flutters in, in traces it seems. First an omen, then an ache, then a fever in time. I lay awake in the dark and I find that I quiver from imagined states and doomed possibilities. He came home with a paper. And he stood at the door. Just a paper! To proclaim! That something’s not right! I speculate in bed sheets and I dream nights before that it’s ugly or nasty or sinister too. It’s that spot.

PART 1: I’m not sure I’m the obvious choice. I’m not bold or powerful. My brothers were always more forceful than me. My sister was always more steady than me. I have small bones and a fainting reflex. Whenever I see blood I faint. I was shy at first. I took long to first start speaking and when I did I spoke. In. Broken. Sentences. For. Quite. A. While. I felt afraid of scary things or ugly things like spiders or darkness, needed help with checking pockets and shoes