Break me, crack me open until blood and bone blossom down to Hell
rape me, claim the ruby spoils of my heart as your tithe, call the
scared little girl your slave, your doll, your canary in a coal mine –
leave me with love bites that bruise me purple, brown, and blue
crack my ribs open, sodomize a 15 year old virgin so she bleeds,
wakes up screaming with needle pain as you sob, claim her, saying
“Even the Devil deserves love,” as you drives your point home, over and
over until she thinks she is dead, but the truth is you started killing
her at 7, or maybe that was 2, when you came to her cradle bound sleep
with throngs of mutilated souls and sang a lullaby of damnation,
the light in her never died, no matter how many hellhounds ate her,
no matter how many times you called her spineless, maggot, worm, weak –
kindness is not weak. Hope is brutal. Love the only flower that grows
in Hell, you once told me that only strong things can survive here,
two decades and four years later and I am still the summer sun, you
are not my maker, no matter if you made me, for like the firebird,
I will grant your wishes at a cost – one that leaves you dead –
and as you are sipping cups of my gore from your throne, the true
part of me will have flown to freedom eons ago, the only girl you
own is a shell, the true me is a phoenix, stronger from destruction,
and when no one believed me, when I was pumped with drugs and manic
with your terrors, unable to sleep from nightmares, terrified to
simply shut my eyes, when my shrieking kept the whole hall up, when
I could feel your tongue, your hands, your claws, your whip’s lash,
those things all killed me, mummified me, you do not deserve love.
I’ve died so many times I’ve made it an art.
You will never deserve love.
I’ve lived so long with nightmares I’m
queen of all hell now, your master.
You do not deserve my love.
My love comes with a cost,
a stipulation, it will
You are entirely incapable
of loving a human being.
But you are broken.
So I give it