At a young age,
I had to learn to dodge stones,
grow angry scales
along innocent freckled skin,
and open my eyes to a world not quite ready
to hear this tigress's voice.
Speaking in tongues to those paid too listen-
of fairytale wars, battle scars,
and the many linoleum squares I counted
day in and day out. I became mute.
Escaping through rabbit holes and back alleys
into a world of ink and worthy paper cuts.
[ I wear these
like a fucking
fashion statement! ]
And this goes out to you-
The Eden snakes, you dead-eyed demons:
It is you that keep me up at night,
weighing down these artist fingers-
IT IS YOU I WILL SLAM AT AN OPEN MIC NIGHT!
I do have a life worth writing about.