I DIED RECENTLY, in the town's library with my head hanging off the straight back chair, a book in my crippled hands and blood trickling out to stain the velvet covers, it was a reminder to whoever stumbled upon my corpse: i died the kind of death that only took place in made-up nighttime stories of murders and mysteries: too quick, too precise, too heartbreaking. my skull became a prismatic phenomena they spoke about in sepia books labelled: ANATOMY OF A WITCH'S CRACKING BONES, it spoke of the grey matter that was never properly utilised, lines and lines typed out in corporate fonts to demonstrate my destructive thinking and between those bold letters were my own tiny scrawls whispering what was wrong with me and if you had stopped to trace your fingers along them, maybe you would've found the reason i died on the window seat by the library.
I DIED RECENTLY, in the countryside chapel where my parents took me for the weekend, my pulse dropped with a riot puncturing my arterioles when father finished preaching about purity and all my brain could think of was the nights i'd spent losing every bit of it, hiding underneath black satin sheets and so i decided i'd rather not think at all, told my brain to stop functioning. my last minute was spent hoping for a way out and i found it, a tiny exit through the blue and black bruises spanning my cheeks when my mother clasped them and asked the deadly question of how? my brother shook my shoulders trying to save me from lifelong slumber but i gave up entirely, collapsing against the wood. how would i look at him if i returned? what would i say? so i died, slipped through the thick winter fog and found myself lost amongst ghosts who came with similar stories and haunted eyes
I DIED RECENTLY, in my four poster bed up in the attic littered with the shatters of my dreams and ancient aztec artifacts, body curled up under pale cotton sheets and hands tearing out strands of my mud-brown hair. the thunder outside crackled along with the thump of my heartbeat, the hurricane melted into the void of my heart. the thrill of ozone crumpled me into a lion-hearted paper doll that was more alive than a human could ever be. i could smell the lemongrass and the wet earth it grew in, i could see the nightmares hovering up in the air, waiting to crash down on me as soon as sleep arrived. i could feel myself go up into flames burning worse than plastic, refusing to rot and leave a bad taste behind. the sky buried me thick under memories and memories of the sun and the stars kept staring at at me from afar, like i was one of them. in the end, my body abandoned me ─ or maybe i abandoned it, the hopeless clutter of organs.
─ I HAVE COUNTLESS KINDS
OF DEATH AND I HAVE
ONLY ONE GRAVE.
(adonis)
⍣
does this make sense??
(sorry if it doesn't i just had to write something impulsively before 2020 got over,,, probably going to regret this tomorrow but whatever)
