that’s the way of imaginary things
and mythical beasts
you see
they always flit in front of you
invisibly visible and complete
just when you choose not to believe
i think the sea witch took my voice
and perhaps my wings
and I must dance on knives
drowning on dry land
trying to keep my balance
all the tapestries lead to the garden
where the hunt
always ends in bloodshed
listen softly sister
you can keep your dagger
sweet and sheathed
i was born with my own
and if I wanted to be pierced
i’d use my own horn
the truth
for every unicorn knows whose blood
is spilled in the courtyard
and even if we allow it
you still choose not to see
and stay content in disbelief
of our existence
and every time i have tried to speak
nothing gets past my teeth
because your lips have tripped
and collided in that very breath and moment
always with one of the others
ignorant and oblivious
i think every horse lays down at last
in exhaustion
secrets stitched deep
and waits for the bite of the butcher’s sleep
dreaming of being one in a million
as it is offered up
skin hoof and bone
to the gods of the glue factory
we watch the maidens play in mud
with goats and pigs and chickens
they think
seeking a virgin
not innocence
but it’s toward intelligence
strength ands creativity
we gravitate
the celestial unique
and not the arrogance of elves
not for us the followers of sheep
or the meek
in such we find no release
for they are as common as coins and cannons
i’ll stay to the woods thanks
a full arrows length
and not risk a hair
with your hunters everywhere
another pretty poison apple princess
pretending snow white
precious pampered
peppering my pride
with resentment
you must be kidding
like tori sang
she’s just pieces of me you’ve never seen
maybe you never find what you seek
because you spend your time
studying diamonds for flaws and chasing rhinestones
all the while overlooking gold
and tossing it
for dross
leave me in the field where Dorothy slept
fresh red in poppies
go to tea at the queen of hearts’
courtyard of croquet and painted roses
and i will skip Cheshire
into the safety of shadow
and do report back how much fun was had
and how the hatter is still mad
and you met others
while the lion and the unicorn battle all around the town
for plum cake and wine under this one skin
and i can’t make them agree
to not split me in three
i will clear my features
still as midnight waters
and imagine the sting of bees
in my chest
is an allergic reaction
to garlic and stress
i will wash my eyes
and with wine and water
flush my wounds clean
they sting but they aren’t that deep
all the violence in my silence
my tongue bitten through with blood syrup
to keep it from escaping my chain leashes
the unruly beast no longer gives a shit
about consequence
because it’s sick of dealing with my
destructive self serration
between my own presence and absence
and the prison of anxiety crushing me
i wonder from my glass casket
why i let myself choke on the unspoken
steel boned chest caged
wild birds of paradise and
pearls from pain
whirling through my brain
while i stare at the hourglass broken
waiting for time
to crank my jaws open
or allow me at last
the peace of sleep
and to forget this dreamscape ever happened
i’d rather not watch the princes gloat
and the ladies fawn
adoringly across the courtyard lawn
i don’t need so much to remind me
that what was precious to me
has been sawn
or deal with my faint heart fluttering and frustrating
inside my marble physique with its steel core unmolten
i am still the untouchable one
it’s best you all leave me there
impenetrable and undeterred
behind my barriers with my broken buried emotions
and my oblivion towers
carefully loving the pieces
of the flawed thing i have become
no anger or envy within
just tired and high strung
at consistently getting robbed of a confession
i feel
the courtiers trampling
in the garden
as i wonder
what am i missing
and if i alone am wearing
a coat of a different color
because i don’t understand any of the others
forgive me
for always following the falling curtain
i can’t handle
you
my dear
at
all
and for me
i want to live
to see another day
so i will keep my stitches in place
and fade into the tapestry
and history
until you can’t see me
at
all
i am mist and ghost and myth
and can pass through like a whisp
no shadow to fall
no hoofprints to imprint
as long as i dance the masquerade
and tell myself i can get through the ball
without anyone finding the truth at all
because in the end
we are galactic
and this
is so insignificant
this insanity is not at all worth it
©️ 2018
Originally posted on my DeviantArt
Mischa Fox 