An Ode to Muses to Melpomene

Rolling Tombstones

God granted me a gift,

With leather wrapping paper, unlike mine.

He smuggled shelter to cover my breast,

While the frigid November froze droplets of my blood,

As they landed on your feet with no soles.

I soon became blind and hallucinated the warmth of the sun.

I used to bend my fingers when counting reasons to live,

Until hypothermia claimed another victim.

I am now, also deaf.

Sign language I cannot see, songs I cannot hear, and braille I cannot feel.

I could only listen for the screams of a church choir when my ears were sewn shut,

With the weeping of an electric guitar,

A voice in the key of smoke-filled wind chimes,

And your hauntingly beautiful rock song.

I waited for you to call out my name before I drove off the edge of this map

And drew red lines over uncharted territory.

I lost control with a purpose,

Aimed for the shallow end of the lake,

And departed from whom I called home.

Emerging from the mountains disturbed by my earthquake,

I landed in a new country

And draped a tattered flag over my naked body.

I turned off the streetlamps

And lit candles to illuminate my fair-skinned complexion.

If I drown in witch's brew and float,

Pour gasoline over the Bay

And ignite my insides with a flame so deep,

I may finally feel numb to the winter.

Pull me out before I am consumed with the wrath of your liquid

And step on me, before I turn to dust.

Color my auburn hair black with the ashes under my fingernails.

Bury me under a grave of mirrors,

So that I may reflect a spell across your chest.

Don't forget to dress my body in lingerie,

Clip gilded butterflies to my hair,

Tattoo a halo across my finger,

And place a shotgun to my temple.

I only need passages to the immortal,

Not the broken mazes of live-action purgatory.

Maybe, this will give me makeshift wings

And I can visit the places I hid in the blind spot of your compass.

I want you to talk to me when maggots devour my tongue,

With words leaving imprints on my sagging skin

And vibrate music into my bones.

I won't resurrect in three days,

But can remain alive in your scripture.

We'll meet again when your soul jumps rope with the string of fates.

Until then,

Water the lilies planted above me,

So, I may remain eternal with you.

I'd drag my own heart across your body,

To quench your thirst.