Skies are growing darker by the porcelain second. Each moment more delicate than the last. My bones feel like wicker where I bend only so far.
Anger builds from my core. It’s a kind of fire, white hot, licking victims with forked, red tongues. The many tongues of Medusa only it is I who is stone cold and I will shock you solely with words. My glare threatening but never fatal.
I am small. Hardly one hundred and twenty pounds, but I move with a force greater than some seismic milestone. I am tectonic. See me shift oceans with a sigh, feel a deep concern rumble from the earths core with every lax eye roll, growing frustration.
I question humanity everyday.
Why are we so self destructive?
Where do we find peace in war?
What is it you get out of insulting me with petty notions?
Ha, they say ignorance is bliss but I would rather tangle with the divinely aware. I prefer challenge over increased guilt for opinion and a dwindling tide of personality.
Everybody looks the same.
I wear roaches strung on gold chains from my ears, I wear a collar around my throat and I wear silver, looped snakes on my wrist. Tell me you don’t like it but give me reason, say it with gusto. Do not hold me on the grounds of I can so I will. Hold me for your sake.
Hold me because you love me.