Beyond The PhoenixMature

[…iii…] ~ (Beyond The Phoenix)

Normality is absent in the void I wake in.

Grey clammy hands press over my naked body,
Bright yellow eyes peer through me,
I smell burning flesh.

…I…
…D…
…O…
…N…
…T…
…L…
…I…
…K…
…E…
…I…
…T…
…H…
…E…
…R…
…E…

Something is scrawled across my stomach in blood,
(Darkened phrases of an aphotic mind gouged out of my flesh)

Something is burning…
That something is me.

Searchlights peer into my mind,
Taking advantage of my lethargic temple.

A storm circles me… poised on the edge of venom,
Seeping into my ventricles.

Heaven? Hell? Pain? Pleasure? Love? Lust? Hate? Envy?

We are broken stones in the midst of a chaotic hour,
We are spread across the resplendent mist in shattered ballet,
We are dead on account of a broken sunshine, and a ballistic cradle,
We are separate in the layer of the demons, the demons who…
(R.O.C.K.E.D)
Our lives.

Spitting my lips across the floor, I struggle out of my involuntary sacrifice,
Grey hands stretch beyond shapeless myths, patience unwound,
I put a million different names to a million different faces,
Mist caves in on identity of sacrificial tool bearers.

They pursue me. Assault me. Strapping me to the floor.
Molest.My.Breasts
Corrupt.My.Innocence.
Remove.My.Hymen.
Introduce my womb to cradle scriptures.
To bear life of something faceless.

The rose system leaves a sweet scent to bury the stagnant stench of semen.

I lie across the remedial dreams.

This day will never suffice.

I lie naked, destroyed, dead.

To my back they have nailed wings,
To my stomach they have carved a symbol.

The rose system leaves me desolate and mindless.

I am an angel…(so says the phoenix)
(The phoenix whispers in my ear…)
I have a task to complete. (I stand, wings outstretched)
(I have lost humanity with my ability to breathe)
I am an Immortal…

The phoenix is my guide, and the resplendent hands lead me to my cloud.
I am encompassed by the storm,
Cobalt rainbows carve the sky in a shallow maelstrom,
Thirteen men enter the silver surroundings,
They touch my face,
And fit attire across my broken body,
I, a seventeen year old girl, now a discarded angel.

My hymen suffers rebirth to cement, I am married to the phoenix,
I recite my epitaph as the hands paint my wings aphotic.

The End

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