It begins with betrayal
In not being able to express
The crushed grape in your chest
The taste of morgue in your mouth
And how the lions in your eyes are all dying
Your voice has become mummified
In a sarcophagus of incest
But the Egyptians used honey
To preserve their vital organs
So your mind begins to flower
And you come up with new ways of speaking
Mohawks on skateboards
Tattoos underwater, a guillotine of scarring
Maybe you become bad weather
Thunder belly and hail storm
Acid rain tarantulas making the world barren
Maybe you become music
Because it’s the only thing you’ve ever loved
That’s never hurt you
Maybe you become
Empty coffee cups on the sidewalk
Paper pizza pie plates in the garbage
Maybe you’re the stoic forest
Clear-cut, never replanted
Slowly eroding
With red wine and vomit