potency

i am the genius they failed to tell you about

my head is still pounding-
facades circling me
in halos of cooing birds.
i am afraid of everything i am,
but more so afraid of
all that i cannot be.
there is a ghoul's blood
trickling down my back.
it's sweet like raspberries,
but everything in my soul
is telling me it is rancid.

my throat has a pulse-
i must swallow down the fear
that i am a foolish designer
with a crayon for a pen.
i cannot put the burdens aside,
the ones filling up my belly with lies.
all i wish is for
the moon to be the moon again
and to not absorb its shadow.

i read about a woman-
'the girl with a flammable skirt'
they didn't understand her,
were lost in her dreamy sorrows,
but i ached for her life as my own.
and in the false convictions
and prayers out of doom,
i knew that if there was spark in her
there had to be a person
who would find it in me.

i am not here to praise
on my knees at the alter.
i am not here for the glitter, boas,
lipstick-stained teeth and fireworks.
i am here to move the ocean waves
with the call of my voice.
i am here to caress
the tides with the moon.

the moon-
its midafternoon
but she shines so bright.