discipline

hidden weapon. 

discipline is just frightened little girl with 

shame 

towering over her, 

ready to break her neck and break he does. 

crack. slam. crack. slam. the same words over and over again. the same no over and over again 

restraint is not just binding rope. not thick, rough rope. digging into ngers, twisting and wringing out nerves. no, it is blood pouring all over you. 

it’s standing carefully 

not daring to interrupt its path 

he collects rows of little dolls. the heads swing back and forth. 

owers swaying in the wind. just see it that way.

delicate and pretty. 

every splatter on the wall is a shadow of my own mind it frightens me, but it reminds me. it reminds me of me. 

shame & i see it at the same time 

centuries of practice is faster 

big man and he feels bigger. he is bigger than the sun. a sagging beach built one grain of sand at a time

legendary 

hand thrust into my back, a poor man’s excalibur a poor man’s king arthur, ego stretched see-through across a too-large frame, stretched white at the edges 

his ngers grasp around my spine & it nally hits the crumbling brittle of small bones rub, strain he thinks his pride and mine are made of the same 

He thinks I am imitating the lion’s roar, but really god’s elusiveness peaked as I came into personhood god forgot me, i forgot myself, and life whittled me into his image anyways, shadow or metamorphosis 

ngers white-knuckled around my spine & i am reminded how big a man’s hands are, just how greedy i wish he would yank it straight out, just de-bone me 

but instead he shakes sharply and rattles me loose boxes of hand me downs spin & tick like bombs i hold my breath, the boxes spin and tick 

god fumbles around like a child, looking & looking spinning and ticking, like twin hands on a clock pride sits there quivering like leaves in my spine