[pre]It’s hard to be the girl that’s the ugliest duckling in her friendship with swans
It’s difficult to feel affection for the people who throw you on the ground, face first
But it’s helpful to be invisible.
A ghost in a world of spotlights, trained to follow their subject through wars and book signings
Narcissus’ mirror cracked and offering seven years bad luck, but no one wants control
Of the lady whose name contradicts her lucky connotations, and so my shoulder
Is volunteered for her to lean on, pushing me in a puddle
That is much deeper than it looks, which
Is a situation I rarely find myself in.
I tried to count my blessings, but instead counted my sheep
And found myself dozing, engulfed in dreams of sugared plums and sugared speeches,
Sugar-coating the strawberries that I’m force-fed via feeding tube, but
No one will pull the plug.
I pushed aside the curtains, expecting to see a spider web, but instead saw spiders
Constructing a web of lies and light, of deceit and loss, and I was lost in thought while
Watching them sew such a mixture of blood and beauty that I found myself entangled
In this web that was as tangled as the one I wove for myself, my shroud for burial, because
I planned on dying alive.
I held my camera in my clammy palms,
Taking pictures of my destructive existence as it was being destroyed,
And the only thing I wondered of it
Was whether or not my web was formerly a house, made a home
By a being of the place I was leaving.[/pre]
