Day 2

The spell I cast
Without knowing what I knew
Without saying what I said
and without taking what I took:
The black thorned crown upon my head
gave direction to all who passed
be wary, my foes and friends
today I care not what I do
nor who I speak to in what manner:
I do not heed your snickering faces,
or watch your selfish poses;
I do not care for your fancy cars,
your expensive, ugly threads,
your paper mache faces and
plastic body parts.
Knowingly they sat, smirking, laughing:
line of girls, fake perfect, sickening perfect.
They sat, and laughed, and pointed at my costume.
But my confidence would not be shaken:
The thorns above my eyes proclaimed for all to see
that I, in fact, was royalty- and not their sharded faces
or crooked smiles
or plastic minds
and cookie cutter hearts could break.
Today, I was invinsible:
See now, world? How perfect I,too, can be. Perfectly individual.
There is nobody in the world who is anything like me.
My htoughts are different, my name is different, my perspective is different, my dress is different.
Nobody hears the way I hear, or sees the way I see.
And this power I can feel deep down. . .grows so slow, inside me.
I put a curse on that perfect line-up
pidgeons standing idly on a branch
so ripe for the shooting, so dumb and tempting.
And caring not, I cast my spell:
pumpkin guts and needled sores,
sweat and desire: the power of two
pull it together with a touch of Greek Letters
And ho: the spell is cast.
Mourning glories made their appearance in late afternoon shadows:
the spell would work, my revenge would be wrought,
But what happened from this spell, I'm afraid. perhaps it was too strong?
Someone was shot dead at their front doorstep:
Three shots, in the street, before that gaping ugly wreck they called their brothel:
blood and police marred their day, and could they be drunk and happy when such atrocities lay dying in their streets?
I, however, found sweet pleasure in this: sorrow for the injured overwhelmed by the sense of power. THe curse had worked, as I'd felt all along. And to sweeten the success, the taste of candy and society and foolishness.
And we didn't need their drugs, their alcohol, their casual sex or their perfect bodies to hide cowering hearts and repulsive mannerisms. Instead, we came together, our trio, we three.
We wrought power without knowing what we did, and fearing no consequence.
Revenge is complete. That which had been sought arrived.
There is now no further need to dwell on what might of been, or how the world has no morals or ethics, and truly the selfish survive best.
Instead, there is time for soft warm kisses, and love, and feeling the power of two: the power that flows from my fingertips and his, that make us together even when we are apart, and the destructive nature I tend towards. He tempers my raging flows. I bolster his calmed waters. Together we are one.

Day 1

I stepped out of the crooked house
Skipped and dived and hid between the houses from the past
Though it found me anyways.
My sorrow for the other lost one was insincere
She sobbed and wept, couldn't find her way back.
I understood what that felt like:
Saw the shadows of the girls slinking along the walls,
perfume like old beer.
Instead I reached in, and found my name among the others
Small grey knitted block.
So I left, promised myself I wouldn't get hurt this time
But knew I was too eager to please to save myself.
I begged for it.
We went to the bridge, high above the campus, that spanned between the buildings
Open. Air under my wings.
They pointed at the river and cried,
"JUMP!"
I stood on the edge, looking at the far quiet waters
rippling unknowingly
sluggish and sleepy and eternally there.
I looked at my wings
Torn holes and claw scratches
Teeth marks and dried saliva
and was afraid, that I would not make the jump, that it would hurt too much.
They laughed and helped me down,
but inwardly I was afraid.
And that night, I held the second sheaf
that insisted upon my welcoming.
Claimed they would not change me. But when I got there-
I found that they had changed the people I now knew.
She now wore corderoy overalls, and dolly makeup
He was confident and laughing.
Patchwork gang, just four or five:
but the smiles that wrapped around me
were unbearable, so I did not turn away.
Instead I laughed and told them they had changed.
They laughed and shrugged.
And there it was, that long lost feeling, that love that comes without conditions.
Acceptance. . .