Did you hear the bones crack?
Here I am, reborn once more—
Another self, stripped from the flesh.

 

A fragile miracle,
My skin soft as moonlight,
My hands as steady as a coffin lid nailed shut.

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A violent metamorphosis—
My skin radiant as starlight,
My thoughts shifting like shadows.

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My body—
A crucible that devours me
And spits me back out,
An atomic boom.

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Try to define me if you dare.
Does my presence unnerve you, adversary?
Their eyes—surgical slits,
Their silence—a slow bleed.

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I breathe in your revulsion,
Evade your groping hands,
Vanish into my damp, womb-like cave.

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Soon I’ll reclaim my reflection,
Draining my own veins,
Poison tree roots clenching my organs like a vice.

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That cave vomits me up—
A child forged from venom and void,
My edges sharpened by the world’s rancid teeth.

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I’m only partway through this journey.
Look at the debris:
Ghost-limbs, torn hearts,
Shattered phantasms.

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What a spectacle—
The watchers swarm,
Licking their lips while I wrench free
From the festering pit.

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They think I’m finished,
But I keep writhing back.

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Look closer:
Here rests my defiance,
The unbroken foundation of my torment,
And my plunge into the endless void of becoming.

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Still, I remain the same woman
Despite each catastrophic collapse.
The first downfall was confusion—
A slip into the silence I craved,
A haze of white pills and surrender.

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The second?
I burned through the Zürich fog,
Unwilling to vanish.

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They found me
Piecing myself together,
Layer upon pulsing layer,
Resilient as ever.

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Every time, they doubted I’d rise,
And still I haunt this place—
A ghost bound to their disbelief.

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Transitioning—
A masterpiece of pain and persistence.
Each brushstroke cuts deeper.

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I make it look bold.
I make it feel real.
Call it survival.

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It’s easy to disappear—
To shrink, to dissolve.

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But the return—
Crawling through the sludge and shadows,
Owning every tattered scar, every inch of battered skin—
That is the defiance they fear.

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Oh, it’s worth it.
For that single, stifled gasp—
A moment of awe,
For the monstrous splendour of staying alive.

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So, sceptic.
So, critic.
I am your fascination,
Your reckoning—
The untamed, unapologetic horror
Who rises from the grave.

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Bone to Flesh? No—
Skin to skin.

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Beyond flesh, beyond bone.

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Out of my own dream,
Into forever.