Kill My Soul

A portrait here.

See my soul
screaming at me
for all the times
it was asked
if what it was saying
was true,

only to have
its mouth sewn shut
before answering,

to be told
to shut up,
to stop lying
to the poor girl,

to stop messing
with her mind
again.

You see them here,
ripped open,
yelling
at all you naysayers,
from their pit
up through her gullet,

and still… you…

Still,
you doubt?

Will you not stop
until you’ve killed her?

I Have

Quick, run.

Find Nyx.

Her ear is infected
again.

She’s running away.
Brothers follow
into my Grand Library.

I imagine
this is how Alexandria
must have looked
after the fall.

Eldest manages to grab her.

Brother, let me—

No. I got this.

Please, let me—

NO.

I watch him
struggle and sway
until she is subdued,

as the room begins to rumble.

I walk toward them.

Poor kitty.

She looks filthy.

Couldn’t fuck you up
if she tried.

Salivating,
tilted little head,
dirtied up and wet.

She turns it
to the right,
slightly up.

The walls begin to crack.

Brother, let me he—

I can do thi—

I know, but let me—

NO.

I stand still,
the hard rocking unsettling me.

I look up.

BROTHER.

Part of the ceiling,
or whatever held above us,
collapses.

I go to grab
the soothed feline.

Brother pulls brother
and they run behind me.

We are so close
to the exit.

The library opens
its stomach.

I grab for something.
Anything.
Something pretending
to hold.

Younger trips.

Oldest falls back with him.

And as he falls,
he clings onto me.

I blame myself
for the trip.

Somehow,
it’s always my fault.

And I don’t know why I—

STAND UP STRAIGHT.

take—

DON’T FALL.

the—

STAY UP.

bla—

They keep shouting.

And I say to myself:

DON’T FALL.
STAY UP.
YOU HAVE TO HOLD THEM.
THIS IS YOURS.
HOLD THEM.
DON’T FALL.

What if you just…

let go?

so dizzy
this feeling

this holiness
of letting go

of the pole.

I open my arms.

Nyx rises.

And Night falls.

Everywhere around me.

The library has collapsed.

And nothing.

I am falling.

My brothers have dissolved
into air,
or something less,
or sublime.

I can’t understand.

I am elated.

Everything—
nothingness—
is so much.

I feel at ease,
like something is sorting
within myself.

I understand
what was destruction

and what was desire.

I don’t understand ho—

I am falling in the dark.

I am alone
in the dark.

How am I breathing?

I begin to forget.

I start to cry.

This feels familiar.

This is what it’s like to die.

As the panic courses through me,
I hear a whisper:

Grieve this.

Eventually,
you will forget
the shape
of what was never yours.

You are alone,

and that is not ill.

You are not empty.

You have.

The heartbeat in my head
slows slightly.

I have.

I word it quietly,
almost as if to keep it.

To remember.

I close my eyes

and feel what it would be
to embrace myself.

Cho iza.

Opening

Breathe.

Eyes closed,
rolling upward
toward a heaven
undisclosed
to anyone else.

Seeing
what is asked of me
from Mother,
from Abue,
from family,
from others
I cannot recall—

but they recall me.

To see
what I have been
so blind to.

To hear sounds,
smell,
taste,
feel
differently
than I had.

No. Let me correct this.

To feel the things
I had already felt
properly,
but was raised
to ignore.

To see with the eye
that was given
as don,
the one that helped
bring me back
to my senses.

To reclaim the entirety
of me
that seemed to be drowned
by the noise
that keeps being made—

mindless noise,
making us forget
to be mindful
of ourselves.

I see the lid opening
on the most exhausted eye,
the eye that looks
on and beyond me,
on and before me,
onto me.

And I am blessed.

I am present.
I am past.
I am future.

I am here.
I am not.

I am everything.
Everything is me.

Gueta.

I am complete.

Reverie.

Eyes closed.

Here

Is

where

I lay comfortably

in the ephemeral

energy of your arms.

We can’t be here long.

I hold on

as if this were a dream,

malleable

but limited.

So I wrap myself around

you,

look inside your eyes,

and try to find a way

to never lose this.

But alas, I know

in time it will dissipate.

So let’s make the most

of tenderness.

I embrace you.

Our lips turn kindred,

twisting and bending

into a language

neither of us translates.

Our arms entwine,

under and over one another,

as legs wrap,

pulling each other

into a deep sigh,

a deep rhythm

we remember

from a time

we seem to forget.

As my body rises,

your body holds.

With hands I know —

hands that say,

gentle,

that say,

promise I won’t let go.

Strong.

The stretch of vines

and leaves begins to wrap

around our naked bodies,

crawling with small buds

starting to bloom.

You pull me

closer to you,

whispering something small

beneath me.

I move you above me,

our bodies circling

toward something

neither of us names.

We hold each other closer

as the room greens,

as each body remembers

In its own way

—then together—-

how to bloom.

Everything in us

becomes lush,

flourishes,

is gold.

A rose blooms

on your back

where I lovingly dug into you.

Eyes open.