A Labyrinth

Thesis II: A Labyrinth to Escape

I am not always nice, that is my monstrosity

my mouth, blade-like sword

Pierce open every wound

Tongue to site of ritual

Of blood

Is this the rust of lust?

Why am I ashamed of my fury?

Why do I make holy the act of being hungry?

If I could just be still

Be quite

Make my energy small

Be calm

Maybe they wont see the feral face inside of me

if I speak too quickly.