"I got my heart handed to me tonight, all bloody and frail, like a newborn colt. I thought I was going to write you a sweet poem โtender green over fragrant flowersโ but today I love no one.
Iโm the gravediggerโs broken guitar. I saw a granite box with my fatherโs bones inside. I walked this land biting back tears of contempt. I ran my nails through the mud on my tights.
At dawn I sat slowly on the edge of my mattress and put on my armor, piece by piece. The chest and neck always come first, because the dead never look comfortable in coffins.
Donโt take your eyes off me nowโIโll give you a show. Iโll curse your land, Iโll spit in the face of your god. Iโll laugh as they drag me and tie me to the stake. What does it matter to me, if you donโt care either? Isnโt it only fear that brings you to your knees?
I will swallow the burning coal of my anger, my desire. You will see me burn, and you will plead in my name. And it will hurt you more than it hurts meโ because thatโs how it was meant to be."
















