| There are nights, so vacant and hushed, | |
| I can feel the texture of my tattered soul moving within me. | |
| Black tar, dripping, sticky and thick. | |
| A soft, slow secretion of indifference slopping through the hollow suit | |
| I use as a body. | |
| They say these are the words of a damaged mind. | |
| But not I. | |
| To me, this is insurgency. | |
| I used to dream of being inside the womb. | |
| Fetal universe, black holes and emptiness. | |
| Orbiting the massive planet of my mother's booming heart. | |
| Tiny yolk body, tethered like an astronaut, adrift in the tranquil spume of desolate bliss. | |
| Tiny fingers inching from chubby stems, reaching for that great thumping whoosh of blood and power that wobbled like a snarling god above me. | |
| My fibrous head translucent as a bell jar, would search with great staring eyes deep into the godless dark for a light, for a sign, for anything other than indifference. | |
| But the universe would never oblige. | |
| Look upon me: a daughter of a child and a monster. | |
| Frozen without cold feeling nothing unsure, uninspired, veins full of air, soul fading into the umbra | |
| Who are they to say what is moral when they are broken? | |
| Who are they to say anything about us? | |
| All this, all this, and | |
| I want to sledgehammer and leave nothing but dust to dust to dust to dust | |
| Strangled by a | |
| Bible Belt | |
| Strangled by a | |
| Bible Belt | |
| Strangled by a | |
| Bible Belt | |
| Strangled by a | |
| Bible Belt | |
| Strangled by a | |
| Bible Belt | |
| Strangled by a | |
| Bible Belt |
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