I was a latent volcano with lust to erupt

only I didn’t know it, the sides of my mouth

curling upwards in grotesque clown grins

terrified of what’s beneath and—most importantly—

unaware of that blood-soaked terror at all.

 

When I realized the nails were drilling

every corner of my skin, all I could do

was hide and forget. Forget touches

that weren’t meant to be, forget the

forest green carpet and ivory pain.

 

It was shit decisions that first snapped these hinges

as child’s words spilled from my mouth:

the longing to touch treetops,

the longing for a father.

 

Then, only words: words I could spill,

unfiltered water ready

either to nourish or poison.

Words that kept me sleepless

heaving, heaving, heaving,

waiting for the spewing, that release

of Madness, of evil inside of me.

 

But after the flood, nothing’s left

in my river to lull. All I have now?

Ink and blood I’m not afraid to taste.