Russian Doll Layered Mind Locks Pandora’s Box

21 Jan

 

 

An American Daughter   

She told me to temper my temper, and I no idea what she meant

She sat across from me with an empty plate and told me to finish my dinner,

but her Eyes grew Ripe:

hungry and hypnotized; glossed and wet; heavy lidded lust of mental masterbation

Imaginitive Sin. Devoured it before I began,

Stealing the scent and taste,

Living through me living in me my own mother

leaving me used- full of empty confused feeling

and leftovers. 

 

Etiology of Emancipation

The day Can and Cannot had a fight,

The World shook.

And through the crack

of their walls, back to back,

Hope was born.

Pregnant with repression and fruitful in her nature

she birthed a daughter named Despair,

Despair bore Guilt, Guilt bore Shame,

and Shame, twice-divorced, 

labored through twin girls- Sexual and Asexual-‘

and later Eros-Indulgence and Denial.

The lineage of goddess,

everlasting the space that passed between time,

had a running discourse:the ideology of my internal monolouge.

Though killed by life, when I was saved from death, 

lacerations, living streaming nightmeres, are laced into my memory

So dizzy chasing the discursive threats and taunts, I stand defiant and say:

Thank You.

Because my mind knows suffering and it spins fueled of it’s own exhaust

and although I’m tired 

like the trickle-tingle trickle-tingle anxious tranquilization of a herion addict  

relaxing into her fix, nodding in a back alley to the rhythmic blues song of the night

performed by those who live to practice and practice to live

lives lit with cracked harmonicas and cocaine laced pipes.

My Fire’s meaning now resonates with the drumming

of my  heart, Beat, torn and raped and savaged, Beat, 

 deceived and vindictive, Beat, 

paranoid lab-rat paralysis, Beat

Armed with easels, Beat, but paint a picture

of a blunt butted brush, Beat

stabbing Beat jabbing Beat ripping Beat 

wrenching, Beat the conspiracy againt myself onto white canvas surface 

my enemy faced to face like a real women

instead of lying awake eyes wide open silent with fear

knowing the monster isn’t under the bead

they’re in my head.

I’m tired, 

Save me from myself.

 

 

 

 

 
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