What History Means

do you know what history means?

you can spill the words from your mouth

nails yanked upright, teeth torn, skull bashed

across the plaster wall, the marble counter

blood dipping from Ishtar's remnants in bronze..

Yes..

I still remember the day his roar broke Ishtar in bronze

her remnants scattered in the foyer,

blood dripping from my skull, a concussion is all it took

for me to befriend the resonance of rubble

a sound wave, resonating like a giant silver bell, cascading down the moors of grecia,

plucked a spring wire right by my eardrum, left the bell of my heart mid-air

before it fell

and when the static humming of sight melted away,

i could see color,

you were picking up ishtar's elbow, the edge was sharp,

you had lost control,

and so i got up,

ran right through the pool 'round the bust that held the broken statue to the door

trying to grasp at the carved iron looping out in menace to run out the threshold

i could feel the mosaic from the pool enter my heel, and each step dug it further in

but i could not stop, and so i ran, it was the absence of air entering my throat that stopped me,

the resonance wave still occupying my temples, i was actually blind

i fell asleep

and in the morning i woke up in a scream,

tearing through the silk damask embroidered in golden thread, our family tree on the sheets that covered me burst into flames.

Daya Esma came rushing in, it was she who'd found me lying in the forest grounds that shut in

the daunting estate, an excuse for a home

demanding an explanation for why she had carried me back in here

covered in veils of mania

The great miracle of this world is that I'm slowly realizing I do not have to be in fear for life itself

that I do not have to get straight A's lest I disappoint and bleed

lest I bleed, bleed

So fuck capitalistic expectations,

that epitome of efficiency,

the chase to perfection.

I'm walking home

I'm going home