AS the weeks comes to an end, remember to boldy expose your battle scars; not to boast, but to invite other injured spirits to live without apology. I need to know I’m not the only one.
Unearth your ugly
I want your mangled and majestic
to touch mine, touch me,
scary and shredded
The delicate rancid sweetmeat
of the throwaway babies must mobilize.
Their disgust is our desire
the wound runs around and through us
like an endearing orbit
The same, unsavory smudge
graces each of our flushed, plump cheeks
the delirious, bastard children of the kingdom
I need your worst to find my best
Your dark heart on my tongue
wrought with wrong turns and rage
melts into me
sweetens my sour and
cools the venom in my veins.
We walk the plank in unison,
in eager lock-step,
rusty spokes on the same worn wheel.
We are artist and muse,
performer and audience,
sideshow and concerto,
freedom and bondage.
Never forget that we were once
a family of monsters,
ogres wandering and worshipping
in the same forest.
Let the scar on your heart remain exposed
so that I may always find you
as we swim our separate ways
through the cruel and cloudy beyond.