Lately in my mind I’ve been trying to understand my roles in my life, where I stand, my relationships with others, who’s good for me and why, and how I’m potentially received by others…
Lots of gears moving all at once.
I realize that I’m a chrone in the body of a siren. I’m very smart and wise but I love to tease and entice and toy with others, but I also love to take care of and nurture people with potential for greatness.
A lot of the people around me know the nurturing side of me and abuse it (much like they would neglect their own mothers and take them for granted) but because I’m deemed as fuckable people keep me around. It’s pretty fucked up.
I’m spread so thin, I’m so tired.
And when I need someone all I hear are the crickets. No one really reciprocates what I give. Idk if anyone ever will.
At the core of it, I just want to be loved and cared for equally.
I’m tired of playing the Mistress Mother role.
But it’s all I’ve ever known.
The dream dweller steps on stage. He is wearing silver filigree patterned slacks, a matching vest, a floor length black jacket, a deep purple collared shirt, a black tie, a medallion around his neck, and an eye patch.
He is carrying a small table with a skull decanter and three Crystal skull shot glasses on it, there is a small knife inside the decanter turned upright with 8 razor blades attached to it and a white sheet.
Spooky whispers are playing over the speakers, then the bedtime prayer overlaps over the whispers. Nicholai lays the sheet on the stage and in a grandiose motion beckons me to the stage as Marilyn Manson’s cover of “I put a spell on you” starts.
I come out slowly dressed in a white gown with intricate white beading and lace. I step to the white sheet, Nicholai reaches around me, a flash of blue light materializes from his hands and I am hypnotized. I kneel.
Nicholai hands me a razor blade ceremoniously and I receive it, gratefully as though accepting a communion wafer. I place the razor on my tongue and Nicholai hands me a shot glass filled with liquor. His face is blank as my face is deeply pained. I drink. I swallow.
Nicholai hands me three razors, I place them on my tongue. He hands me the second shot. I drink. I swallow.
Nicholai hands me 4 razor blades, I have no choice but to take them again. I place them on my tongue reluctantly. Scared. I take the shot glass offered to me. I drink. I swallow.
I writhe in agony. The razors tearing me apart from the inside out. My inner turmoil now made physical. Nicholai drops a red pill into my mouth, he has wrapped it in string. My lifeline.
Blood gushes from my mouth, drips down my chest, the purity of the white dress now forever stained crimson.
Nicholai comes to my side and pulls the razors from my throat connected to the string. One by one. All connected to my lifeline as blood still pours from my mouth.
You push me
You doubt me
Questions that never end
I run to you arms open
You stick out your foot
Stomp on me when I’m down
Bruised in the dark
I crawl and seek shelter
My heart weeping
Angel of death
Do not spare me
I am yours for the reaping.