Persephone
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In the pit of my stomach there grows a seed,
small as infinity and
twice as quick to bloom.
It feeds on my golden agonies
eats only my sordid desire
consumes my cherished regret
lives by my darkest nights
sleeps with my acrid smiles.
A tree grows from its ashes.
Rubber bark rubber leaves
rubber roots rubber heart
poison blood.
Its fruit is a bittersweet choice.
Six faces in each of the six seeds,
a reflection of me in all of the
ripe
withered
blossoms.
Eat.
Eat the fruit breathes the snake as it slithers
silently through the rubber leaves,
waiting, waiting for me.
Each bite of the fruit’s flesh dulls my soul,
stifles it deep into endless oblivion.
Frozen here I am free
torturously caressed in its thrall.
Every crushed blossom consumed
is welcomed by the dull, blurred eyes
that watch lifeless from my face.
I eat, only hoping the fruit will burn away this mask
my thin veneer, and with it
all that I am
all that I was
all I ever would have been.
I’ve eaten the twisted fruit that
grows secret soul in my, tempted in
by the sweet smell of despair.
I cannot stand up to the light -
I am as transparent as glass.
Neither half empty nor half full
a negation.
I burn emptily
A desert in place of my soul
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