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.