death by paper cut

rebirth, a reckoning

i was born into the drugs and boredom that come with the heat of july, and the early 2000's. pinching mosquito bites /
popping ecstasy like it's candy and wishing the world away.
childhood has always been an uneasy concept to me.

i grew up in the ivy mountains. my dad had this friend we bought the house from. i can't remember her name but i still see her strung out words and the way she danced across the room. sometimes, if you wait, she said, the clouds will twirl with you. she always had the windows open, welcoming them in. i wonder if she ever learned to fly among them.

i had a love for fairies, and my ma's peach crisp cobbler. tinker-bell with the blonde pixie hair and rage running through her genes. i also had a love for my dad. daddy's girl, they called me.
my dad was an artist/ a poet/ an addict.
he once wrote of the monsters hiding under my bed, how it was all a facade. the real demons were outside, he said.
i didn't comprehend then, what i do now.