boss battle | poem
that time i almost died
i had been eighteen for two weeks when god threw me into the clouds
my body was green-pale, covered in bloody constellations that grew vibrant under my skin with each passing day
the brain i claimed as my own stabbed with a straw and sucked dry as my heart continued to beat
knives carving away pieces, dropped into a surgeon’s pan until i was just a suit of flesh
his hand gathered in my hair as my tongue, my mouth, my left arm went numb and i knew with untapped fear that i was going to die
and my body was tossed haphazardly into the white truck
and my soul was sent above where god waited for me
as giddy as a child on his birthday
and when my eyes were closed i grasped at straws and climbed mountains and broke the necks of singing angels
and when my eyes were open i spoke like i was suddenly fluent in an inhuman language
i turned bathrooms into murder scenes
i was an infant robot in a foreign skin
so i would close my eyes as a nurse looked into my future and proclaimed my death
and i would vomit up my death row meal
and i would mutter to the hospital that i’m fine just before losing consciousness
as god pulled me back into his grasp for one final tango
we were mutually violent that night but i was lucifer and i wasn’t going to fall
even if it meant reliving this moment forever
even if it meant sacrificing my future
i wasn’t. going. to fall.
You’re so talented