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Spring through Fall, 2009, Sugar Land, Texas, San Jose, Costa Rica, Houston,Texas
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The Pregnant, Unwed Mother
The Baby
Postpartum Dreamy Glow
The Shadow Speaker
Poseidon
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“There was life before this day
And life after this day.”
.
The
Unexpected
Nightmare.
The Catalyst.
Extinction.
Death.
and
Eternal
Suffering.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
To look pure evil
in its horrifically ”intelligent” eye
as that eye stared back at me,
grinning with hungry malice
was to witness
Hell Unspeakable.
Hell, Understood.
Hell as Real.
Hell as Truth
Hell.
Hell.
Hell
is
Eternal
Torture.
he of the evil eye grinned wider
As he watched me dissolve,
as I grasped
and fully Understood
his “knowing”
of what he intended
to do to me.
he watched my expression go blank
As a sudden,
thick, vile smell
filled my nostrils.
.
(Think: A smell like hot garbage
on its worst day
except the smell is alive
And it wants to kill you slowly.)
.
I Understand then,
and that the reason for the smell
Is because he wants me to Know
That there is no escape.
He takes delight
In my Knowing.
he wants me to Know
that he is in charge now
and that he has always been in charge.
he is The Puppetmaster
and I am his punching bag.
.
he wants me to Know
That he has hunted me.
That he has watched me
For a very long time.
That he has orchestrated
every motion and movement
For many long years
To trap his prize.
Light descends
into Darkness.
And I know now
exactly who he is:
.
Spring 2007, Austin, TX
he is the downstairs neighbor the one i had a bad feeling about, the one who lives Below me. the one I Called upstairs one fine day, banging at his door hysterically, laughing and shrieking as I said – hey I don’t know you well, but like, could you Come Upstairs With Me! there’s to roaches in my living room! I’m terrified,
Can You Pleeeease come kill them for me. After that we were cool and all my fears melted away as we hung out and grilled dinner and drank on April 4th 2007, about some rando-username “Spirit Tiger”- that I had a date with tomorrow, April 5th 2007. Unexpectedly, Spirit Tiger called soon after and the moment I heard his voice a rush of overwhelming familiarity and comfort flooded my being as a “call to confirm” became laughter and shade-throwing and swagger and not the neighbor nor I noticed the Extreme.Oddness.Of. That.Conversation.Life carried on.Spirit Tiger and I went hot then cold and one night I found myself walking home in the storm after a stranger at a library put an umbrella into my hands and left without a word. There was a couple walking ahead of me jumping like children in rain puddles. My heart soared. I wanted more. My roommate and I and her runner friend decided to run in the rain and splash into every puddle and while the one Below me stood and watched, generously offering to hold towels for us to dry off after. We became angels and fae and superhuman, and children again, right before his blind eyes, and the only words he had for me as he handed me a towel, my roommate then upstairs, were words about her:
“She’s a slut.”
He said it with a frightening smile on my face that shocked me into doing something unexpected and a voice that was mine and not mine Spike:
“Don’t call her that.”
I walked upstairs without a polite goodby, sharp edges and glowing rage and an intense fear in the pit of my gut. I avoided him after that, except for one morning when he was up early, beating the fuck out of a punching bag so hard it shook the whole building so I kindly asked him to stop. I saw him next on day that I’d taken too many drugs, lost all sense of orientation and space and time and was drifting in and out of fractals and Everything. I thought about Time and the wind erupted like chaos around the house. I opened the blinds to see the one who is Below me right under the window, staring straight up at me, as hurricane force winds bent trees in a rage of mad chaos.I felt a shock of sudden terror as he stood smiling below me. It was a strange moment, this one. A clear lucid moment in the midst of hallucination, intense paranoia, and at that point, unavoidable amphetamine overdose and a certain knowing and acceptance that I could not control this, and that my body was dying. A clear lucid moment. A brief Hurricane. And it was all me. I was the source of it all. It lasted minutes or days or aeons, but whatever. Time is whatever it is. I calmly accepted that knowing, still dying, and decided to drink some more wine. I accepted that the one Below me was dangerous and I didn’t care and popped another pill. I was dying and I was powerful and I didn’t care or notice that a predator who stares at his prey confidently in the middle of a violent earth-shaking freak windstorm might possibly have made the fatal error of thinking the storm MUST be his doing, because he’s the predator right? And I’m just a stupid dying little girl with power she can’t use, power he wants, a muddled fucked up mentally ill brain, a drug problem, and something he once to devour. I walk Below and knock on his door. What happens next is a blur. I lost Time, but I remember him draining every last bit of energy out of me, a white beam of light surrounding his head as he sucked me dry. I remember it being strangely beautiful. There was also a ritual binding then, one that I didn’t remember, and I would come to know the depravity of fourteen years later. I felt calm and still dying as I walked back Upstairs. I drank some more and dissolved into space and time and walked without will toward Death. Hours or Minutes or Days passed before I went outside for a smoke in a fog and saw him again, waiting for me on the Downstairs patio. I came out of the fog and Spoke Truth in a voice that was my own and not my own and my own:
“I am not afraid of you.”
I slipped back into the Fog
With the vague knowing
That in that moment,
He became utterly terrified
Of me. A sweet musing,
And how nice it would have been
To have kept it for a bit longer .
But Fog is a funny thing
That makes for good forgetting
And keeps things In Perfect place
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Fall 2009, Sugar Land, TX
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he is the predator
i am now his bound slave.
I Understand, then
that he will eat me alive
and thar he will enjoy it
and that he will do it
Again and again and again
For Eternity,
and that death
Is a mercy I will never know,
and one I will beg for
And scream for
And weep for.
“You will not even sleep,”
purrs the Sadist,
As visions of what is to come
Of what I Believe
Is Ceartain to come
Flash like hot knives
Through my awareness:
me, covered in blood. me, hanging naked from the ceiling as he cuts of my flesh piece by piece. rape. amphetamine shots and me sitting naked in a cage. family dead, he makes me kill them. baby dead, he shows me all the unthinkable ways he can make a mother kill her newborn. blood on my hands. or maybe baby alive so i can watch what he does to baby. And there is so much more so much worse than all of that.
I See It.
I Breathe It.
I Believe Him.
I Believe him.
And so I died of shock
as I peed on my bed
next to my daughters crib.
I this was the first of many
Big and Little deaths to follow,
The first Key
that would eventually lead
To the last Key.
I sat and I peed and I died,
Blank yet
Weirdly, with a hint of
“Fuck this shit”
Defiance.
.
The fact that I noticed
In that very moment of
Shock, Terror, and Catatonia
that there was a part of me
Which was Defiant.
Is extraordinary
.
Then came theFog again,
It lets the demon see
The piss and the blank stare
And his victim prepared for slaughter.
.
It let’s me See
just that faint, thin thread
of Defiance,
clouding all else
Until now.
.
My Real-once-Hidden musings
as I peed defiantly on that bed,
like an animal marking Her territory,
actually went something like this:
.
“I am going to sit here and pee on this morherfuckimg bed like a goddamed lunatic because what the fuck else is there to do and I don’t give a fucking shit anymore and from now on Imma do whatever the FUCK I want, cause like, whatever the motherfuck even IS this shit?? Try me, hoe. I ain’t got shit to lose. I’m about to steal my moms Amex and go to Costa Rica with a bottle of Everclear and some drugs and like a couple panties and a shirt and some other shit like maybe a pair of shorts and some conditioner. You wanna force my motherfuckin hand to grab a knife and slaughter my fuckin baby and family???Try it long distance, bitch. Peace nigga.”
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This is The Bard’s Tale of The Birth of The Brawler.
.
Asé,
Judah
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“One guttural scream in a hospital parking garage can awaken Majesty.”
“Evil is fundamentally stupid”
“Life wants to Live”
“…And the Greatest of these is Love.”
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“Love conquers all.”
Earth - Woman - Star 