obstreperous crying from hungry newborn. crouched in bathroom, hands over ears. postpartum blues.
Mama killed daddy with a fork. Daddy used a knife. There were no queens, nor kings chronicled in their lives. Were born of slaves and common men. Were built of fire and ice. Were bathed in blood, and blood again. Until their great demise.
I had a dream inside a dream that you were me & I was me & hatred screamed for us to flee, to get the hell off his property. Cause we were vermin, spat deathly tongue, with tarnished spirits & broken skin. We had nowhere left to run, dreams were our final destination.
Remember that time I tried to purge you from my tired mind before a Russian exam & professor said, “Is everything fine?” “Да.” I smiled, suppressing the tears, that choked & seared my throat. Could only hope, you hadn’t lived in vain, finally free of the pain.
She didn’t deserve you. Didn’t know the sleepless nights endless cries, homemade, garbage lullabies, sung to get a half-assed smile, ease you for a little while, bridge that gap between pain & rage, like twisting smoke of burning sage. No, the world didn’t deserve you.
Damn death- swimming through labyrinthine waves. You were here today, kinetic, tangible, I swear I kissed your face. I swear I gazed upon the light you emanate. Damn. Death, the beauty that doesn’t belong to you, why are you so willing to take?