she bore
a pedigree of insanity
familial psychosis
incarcerations for generations
by the state of disrepute

she grew ocellated skin
to watch all those around
congenital paranoia from
generations of incarcerations;
and absorb she did

news in the common room
of war and isolation
famine and torture
religion and murder
greed and lies

magma flowed through her
she’d be the catalyst against
the state of disregard
a state in motion –
always in motion –

inventing ways to silence her,
as they did her progenitors,
and their’s before, criminals
creating laws and roadblocks
spreading rumors, violent threats

marching their army of
dead heads,
their zombies of terror
homegrown terror, and
she struggled with

a pedigree of humanity;
fighting fire with fire
that broke the laws
created by the ever moving
chameleonic chaos

to protect the madness,
the power, until
she couldn’t fight
couldn’t speak, couldn’t

incarcerated in silence
watching the world burn,
the minority of insanity
generated her state
of disrepair


The incessant clank of the street sign was agitating
She needed to think
It was dusk, and the unpredictable breeze with the anticrepuscular rays, provided an epiphanic backdrop

Standing barefoot and out of breath, she grasped the annoying post for balance
Her torn skirt fluttered in the evening zephyr, before adhering again to her sweat-streaked thighs
She doesn’t remember running there

*clank, clank, clank*

A brief flash of her mother washing dishes, and the sound of colliding pots and pans; with her sweet, contented hum
Her mother was a warrior, she put an end to the violence of an abusive man, husband, father
Then this single mom held two jobs and a smile for her little girl

Mom would be disappointed, she thinks, while absentmindedly pawing at the bloody, ripped blouse
Willing it to stay on her shoulder, she stares at the wanton wind making chaotic tops of loose leaves at her corner of the deserted intersection

She didn’t know what to do, she needed some kind of sign
She barely got away this time, and was tired
Not just exhausted physically, but emotionally shattered
And he was coming
He was calling
Taunting, on this secluded, back woods road

She refuses to believe this will be the spot he ends her, so she prepares to run

*clank, clank, clank*

The memory returns; this time, though, it emboldens
Her burning eyes no longer stung from tears, but from fire and rage
Something clicked inside, finally making sense
She realized that when she needed answers, they came
And it was only here she’d get them
She looks up and smiles at the messenger
Then opts to take the other path
The warrior’s path

She’d no longer run, or she’d forever be running
She stood defiant and unyielding
The wind lashed her hair about her battered visage
Unlucky strands were swallowed by the fresh coagulation
War paint

Releasing the stop sign, she began walking in the direction of the vile brute
Live or die, it was she who would end him and his abuse
She would stop running, she would take her power back
For the warriors
For her mother
For herself


The spider steeped
in darkness creeped
beyond her veil of sight

It caught instead
her thought in web
so nightmares come this night

Within her dreams
of nightmare themes
an insect bound was she

Awake she shivered
her soul delivered
thus had the power he

When next they met
was she who crept
into his nightmare den

His web of lies
was his demise
she’d not get caught again

Thus unaware
that she would dare
to retrieve her stolen soul

Her newfound power
then made him cower
and she woke now once more whole

Corrupt with power
she’d simper then glower
spinning a web or three

Thus unaware
and with not a care
became the spider she