The Awful Truth

Sometimes you just gotta be horrible.

You Are Not Hard Enough

Did you consider that I might be the hard one? That my muscles slid under my skin with the strength to save you? Did you see the fire burning in my eyes? The blood already on my hands? Did you assume that you were the one when I was already standing in the middle of that Hell cutting a deadly path towards you?

I am the rider. Hell follows me, not you. I descend on enemies like a plague. Vile in my own right. I lead armies over black hills like swarms of filthy insects. I lift the skin off of heroes. I slit the throats of lovers and sink into the bloody ground grateful for the mud and mortality.

I am the hard one. You are soft. Your soul lingers to closely to your heart. You cry at the pain. You cringe at the blood. All the while I devour those hearts with fanged teeth and all light dies within me. I am the black whole. The destroyer of worlds. The dead of night. The cold finger on your cheek. The reason you are hiding right now.

I may have obscured all that from you. Attempted a semblance of humanity. But all the while I was just burying my true nature in soft femininity. I lied. I am the killer you feared. The nightmare that nipped at your heals. I tried to be nice. I tried to be soft. But I hated every minute and my thoughts always lingered on a vision of all those sweetest Hells creeping up onto the Earth and my hands itched.

Do not doubt what lies behind these eyes. Do not doubt that I would gouge yours out in single sigh. I am the Heart Eater. The Destructor's Kiss. Kali in a Pretty Dress. The Hater and The Hated. They never saw me coming and the world shuddered as it held its breath.

I am hard. And I never lose.

The Holy Wasted

I would stand at the cabin door watching the sun rise over the valley mountians. The tall golden grass stretching up the feilds to the tree line. There was coffee on the stove. Crickets jumping in the creeping sun, singing their 'come fuck me' song. The drowzy bees tumbling into the morning glories shading the windows. A fawn dog at my feet listening for approaching footsteps or rumbling motors. The creek rushed by with a constant white noise; the new sun filtering through the overhanging canopy of leaves to dapple down to the smooth peebles and darting fish.

I'm not there anymore. I'm here in this city and you are out there somewhere doing your best to ignore me. I see the night now like ink instead of pierced with a million trillion stars. It has its own wildness here. Bums in the alley, wild cats under the deck, broken bottles sparkling in the street lights. I feel you out there. Just tell me what you are thinking. I can feel it anyways but I need to know what it is.

Sometimes all this humanity is a little too much for me. All those emotions and thoughts beating against my brain. Sometimes I feel like a beetle trapped under the glass. I just want to go back. Maybe I stay here for you. Maybe you could come with me. See the reality of those places. Understand what made me this way. If you would just ask. Ask me where I came from. Ask who shaped me. Ask what they did to me. How I got here all those years ago. I want you to know but I feel like I talk too much when I get around you and you wish I would just shut up for a second. I have all these stories and no one to tell them to.

To Be Unreal

No one will know what it's like to be out of phase with this plain of existence. To have stepped slightly to the left of reality and thus to feel unreal. It feels like an electrical cable driven into your guts constantly zapping you; rippling buzzy zip and zaps of nervous enegry through you. It's like having bees under your skin all the time. Like rivers of electrofied water in your veins. Nothing feels right. You're just not sure you are here. You feel like you might disappear any minute. Tune out like a fuzzy picture on an old TV.

I wake up like this.
I walk through life like this.
I pretend I'm fine.

But I'm just that little bit out of focus. Slipping between the slats in reality and something.... else.  Buzzing on the edge of electric waves trying to pull me to pieces. I feel unsteady. Unstable. Not quite here. Not sure I'm actually alive. Like I need an anchor. Like I need you to hold me down and tell me I'm really real. Make sure that I don't slip down those cracks to somewhere else. Make sure I don't just fade away.

Please hold me down before they pull me out of here.