Practice Room

you know when you were a kid
you'd sometimes find giant
cardboard boxes
play in them for days until they were
crumpled torn soggy
but to you it would always be your
secret hideaway
a place where silence was only a
friendly voice
smiling sweetly in between the notes
of the little song you sang
under your breath
as you crayoned the walls

im standing in a crumpled torn soggy
practice room
peeling flakes of god knows what
some construction material from the
'70s
i think the piano might be moldy
but to me it is a secret hideaway
a place where silence is a
familiar face
nodding its head in affirmation
between the notes i play
from my heart
as i color the world

nuance

im a goddess
covered in bug bites
im a greek statue
chisled by scars
i have golden tresses
and weird lumps on my head
i have smooth silk skin
and hairy legs
my hips sway softly
my feet sometimes stink
nuance is perfection
light is just heat

Baptism

a very strange baptism indeed
which left blood streaks on
the wall
dipped my head
fathersonholyshit
in the concrete
until all my
skins
be washed away
sealed as a child of
gravel bits stuck in my
head scraped raw like
crucifix scabs
a very strange baptism indeed