My Diary
Sitting by the vanity table,
I glimpse at the sun rising through a crack in the shade that covers the window.
I write a letter to myself,
One of longing of life put on the shelf.
It comes to me, this utterance of words,
Though my thoughts seem absurd.
I write a letter of secret shame.
I write this letter over and over again.
I see the future coming to tear me down.
Hunted by a life not yet found.
Hand starts to cramp, but I press on.
I ask myself what am I beneath the blond.
I don’t want glamor or riches.
I say goodbye to Barbie and all of her bitches.
This is me, this fountain of words.
In the prison book, drawn by a curse.
No more letters of death do I wish to write.
No more of the rubbery meat to bite.
Begone to this kingdom of blood.
Still they come breaking the dam, bringing the flood.
Give us our peace.
Give us our rest.
In my own mind
I reach the crest.