Interlude (Bad Seed)

Head against the glass
Stormclouds forming…
I’ve screamed 6 months of madness but made no sound
I am the walking dead; I am insanity spread like raspberry jam, tart yet sweet oxymoron complete
Nothing left to fear because all of my monsters have found me hiding in this creaking town
But I’m working on my illness
With scalpel and acid, razor and wire
Even though you feed my addictions, afflictions, regressions –
My woe…
The madness of my dreams in this love stained room…
Where I’ve slithered down your body
Into your dark hidden basement where sinners confess –
A victim, a sick-dom, an emotional whore…
Mascara-plumed lashes bleeding back tracks down my face
Somehow, there seems to be no way to get around this
Standing in the muck, ankle deep in breach of self
I thought I thought complicity a violation
Fortune cookie expelling obfuscation
Mind askew; I never saw the deadly hue
Crumb trail pointing to a view on disappointment ridge
Darkness in night
Russian fool nesting doll; 13 maniacal grins
We are our own deceptions and delusions

I’ve preferred foggy mirrors…

Rusted eyes, the illogical nihilism of a wounded child
Where did the stars go?
Where do the wounds flow?
Running blind, chasing around a Jungian ghost –
You undress the repressed so carefully, beneath your lovely dark corset…
This indigenous contraption that defines my comfort
Confines, refines, lets free… at my own volition
From foul failings, disenchantments, delinquencies and illusions
Twisted notions, assumptions, devotions
This toil may be bitter, but it reveals silver tears and lacy laughter lining my soul
Still, retching the putridity of times absurd lottery is a constant…
I will crawl to keep –
Stepping into prayer, whatever direction that may seek –
River spirit, Crow warrior, Wind father, Moon goddess, Bee queen
Garden and herb, benevolent pine, nettle and stone, reed and quill, sediment and wood
Mottled with ancient medicines, therapies, remedies; Mettle carry me!
I’ve lost my way among sulphuric visions that fates so clearly shown…
Save me through your eyes, your truth; Ivy to my dormant roots
I’ll take these tattered wings from the corner, and with needle and string
Attempt to stitch myself, carve, bend, pinch myself into a place called home, before I’m gone for good –
Pulling the curtain of stars from the world as I fall backward through the crevice –
And grasping at the cloth reveals I’ve given less than I’m owed
Let me cauterize that which suggests, that possibly
The piece of me you’ve come to see is just a weed some bad seed sowed