I wish I lived in Four BEE.

Beauty is currency. It spends just like cash. I remember it. I remember the sharp hardness of it, and how I wielded it like a weapon.

I hope this time to take care and control. Let me be soft and uncalculating, not sharp and hard and evil. Deep down in my marrow there is corruption.

Seeds of lust, unwanted and undulating are unfolding in my mouth. Swimming in the warm pool of my spit. I am going to burn these things away from me. Unwind and uncurl them from my mind, spinning skeins of grey matter.
Destruction tastes just as good to my mouth as lust does. I'm inhaling intentions like smoke, clicking them against my crooked teeth.

Macabre? A bit.

When I die, don't pump poison into me. Embalming is the most insulting thing that can be done to a human body.

Bathe me, wrap me in a linen shroud that smells like summer and leaves, and bury me at the base of an ash tree. Or throw me in the Pugent Sound and let the giant octopus eat me, all suckers and sharp beak.

Effluvia

I wish I could live underwater. I'd float on my back from the Columbia River to the Ocean. I would turn into a soggy mermaid and ride currents. I'll never lack for company, when I have the sighs of drowned sailors to fill my ears.

I wouldn't mind the cold. It would suffuse my being and turn me into something else, rewire the deep circuitry of my reptilian mind. Wash it away in the slamming of the waves against the rocks. I'll slam my body against the rocks and laugh. Peals of laughter would ring off of those sharp and slimy crags, and maybe I could be free, in my secret salty blue-green world.

Nothing could tie me down ever again.

I am not full of virtues and noble qualities...

I've cut so much out of my life. The last thing to go will be the state of duality I exist in. So many masks, donned and cast away. It's almost become mechanical.
But when I sing I feel so light. I will sing until my throat is crunchy from the inside-out and my body shakes violently.

Maybe singing is the only way I can keep my inner world creatures inside. I have to sing, lest they push themselves up and out of me, flowing like venom and roiling mercury.
How many times can I shut my eyes and mouth as tightly as I can to keep them in? Pushing up through my chest, and devouring my heart.

It will shed me like snakeskin if I don't find a way to channel it soon. I need an autoharp.