I screamed into the wind,
“Give me your worst,
bits of hell
purchased with a liar’s tongue.
The storm is always with me
even when the moon
tangles my hair with dreams.”
of a dead valentine,
a loveless lullaby hummed
through the throat of delirium.
Today is another matchstick
on the bonfire I breathe,
the scar chasing me with
its knife I won’t let cut me.
I will be strong even if I fall.
Every weakness in me will find
its shaman to pulse my spirit
with survival.
