Aftermath

Life. Pt I.

it is a tuesday at 3:30 thought:

the 2-12-19.

it is a plot twist that you

don’t see coming.

it is the anticlimax

you hate.

i’ve spent all this time

reading your books-

only to find out it was

all a dream!

or some faeries whisked you

off to Neverland,

those rats! they

ate your face,

then Big Brother

wiped your mind,

a wrinkle in time, an

innocuous time-loop.

the fey folk are here.

they come softly

on two feet

and they smile

and say-

“did you think loss

meant the end?”

yes, i mean,

i guess so.

no. i guess not. then

you come back.

suicide is a sin, so i got

what i deserved.

life in the sterile

segment of Hell.

Life. Pt II.

nurses faces are sweet

like Lucifer. they open your body and run

sugar food into your veins.

the pulse of your arm is irregular.

so much for coming back, they say,

i guess a trip up to heaven costs more

than a dime. the doctors like to laugh

when you tell them no.

food is your medicine. that means

you take it one hundred percent.

that means you let your

skin burst and bubble and your

insides stew. that means you

get to lie there and watch

people on your screen

while they hold you down

and tube you the sins of Adam’s apple.

apple sauce doesn’t taste bad when

it goes up your nose.

at least you have the tv.

it’s nice to fall asleep to.

Tantalus reaches for grapes and

you want to give him some.

here, you say, take my grapes

but the men don’t like that.

the Gods made Tantalus

starve. you were made to sit

with an apple in your

mouth and a split through your throat

like a piggy. molasses

fills the room. stale air doesn’t

taste sweet. the after-life

feels like bed-rest.

Life. Pt III.

the fires of hell are extinguished the way my life becomes the end of a used cigarette / it is humid in june/ skin sticky, there are too many people / i make the top of the waitlist because i’m bad / hades thinks i’m pretty so we eat pomegranates/ there’s no going back/ i don’t know if i want to. //

Life. Pt IV.

we are the seven deadly sins.

gluttony, greed, lust, pride, wrath, sloth, and jealousy.

i am the latter, but all i want, i think, is persephone’s blond hair.

they try to teach us the seven virtues,

but we are already dead.

you can’t teach a dead dog new tricks,

everybody knows.

Life. Pt V.

our spirits demand relief.

it comes when hades leaves his house, when the air shifts.

persephone’s eyes glint. she parts her lips to make a

joke. laughter sounds strange in the underworld.

i like it.

it’s dangerous to cry here, so we thought it would be

dangerous to laugh. but we are still standing.

the whip never falls. our hole in the ground

is filled with sunlight.

love turns the tables. deadly becomes a little less deadly.

Life. Pt VI.

the afterlife without hades is an irrational denominator,

so we learn as we go.

dividing pieces of ourselves to

fit the top half instead of the bottom.

we drink from the fountain of youth in languor.

we go to groups. we eat, we smile,

we endure.

our skin gleams now. free time calls for hot showers.

holy water is the color of a hot bath.

i am burning and clean. my insides unravel within me,

my gut shiny and new. the liver enzymes are coming back,

the doctors say. all i can feel is the bubble foam on

my top lip. we joke. make mustaches and beads out of

white water.

when torture ends, you can finally breathe.

Life. Pt VII.

the hallowed halls of hades reverberate with

laughter. seasons are changing quickly,

and there is barely an explanation why.

our names are now temperance, charity,

chastity, humility, patience, diligence, and me.

gratitude.

it’s funny how the sky grows every time a day

goes by without seeing it.

how fresh air feels after hours in seclusion.

i am jealous of the others still,

jealous of their cuts and blossoming bruises,

the way persephone’s gentle hand

reaches out and wraps them in gauze and

bandages.

i tell her this one day, and she laughs.

why are you fighting to be the worst of the

worst?

because the worst is all i can be now.

i don’t think so.

she touches my hair. i hold onto her

hand in my mind long after her hand leaves.

why are you fighting to be the worst of the

worst?

maybe, i can want other things.

i can want the outside. and prom and kisses

and graduation. shopping, and high

school.

i want flowers from a lover instead of

flowers by my hospital bed.

i want persephone’s hand in my hair for

deciding to go.

the pomegranate seeds mean nothing. hades

is no match for her.

i am jealous. i cannot let that go.

but maybe, my jealousy can drive me to gratitude.

maybe i am not asking for repentance.

maybe i am asking for rebirth.