I used to be an empty room.
now I’m filled with things,
stored with things,
so many things that used to be
blank space.

once I was a lush terrain
but you drove me to the sand
buried me beneath those plains.
you sewed
my lips, said
no complaints.
but I’m a hunger
that strikes at anything nearby
whether invited or actually alive.
I felt things move underground
and crept along the bottom,
leapt with precision at the blood
I was following:
whether it was mice or man,
when I dined it was sudden.
my jaw unhinged and my prey
would undergo an attack of
paralysis, not by the shock
of the poison bleeding out of
me, but the lie uncovered:
they knew one day the end
would come,
but never thought it was that

we must imagine all the water
that my life,
had it blossomed to a greater age,
would have had us taste.
we could be together
slurping at the pacifying waves
as they broke on our
feet and you would urge me
to show you how I grow and shrink
with each lunar cycle.
but boy, you have wasted me.
you filled me with your scorching skies,
your plain and starless nights,
until the holes in every dune
you hid me under were pouring blood,
pouring hurts,
pouring cries loud enough to form
mirages shaped like traps,
shaped like mice for every snake
to catch.
I was down and dried and scared of Earth
before I knew how to control my mind.
now, I’m roaming giant sandboxes
following the Atlantic’s soporific siren
voice, seeking creeks to quench a
decade’s thirst.
i’m riding the scales of other hunters
to bring me oceans, to bring
me people to swallow.
my mouth is big enough.
remember, this is how you’d
rather have it:

I once was a space of bright, blue lakes
but now I’m rolling east
and ready to break
like a tidal wave
chasing the coast
out of bad habit
and I am huge.
I am full.
I am bursting
with black magic.

“the desert pt. 2”


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