I stand at the loom of life and unspool my own dream-thread,
waving from it a chrysalis to serve as my deathbed.
I live a life minute within a minute mortal world,
see it from a throne of sinew, nerves and skin unfurled.
I judge the seedling flower by my predictions of its hue,
and exist upon its petals in a drop of morning dew.
I take my thread to its needle and I lace it through my flesh.
I polish it to be as sharp as every pain-drawn breath.
I am an ant that marches in a menial monotone,
drowning myself in syrups, wearing myself down to the bone.
I am a songbird singing in a tuneless broken key.
I sing my son with vigor, yet I sing for nobody.
I lie down in my chrysalis and sow my eyelids closed.
I crave tears of joy yet I am forcibly composed.
I long for change, I yearn to be, I fear that I will not.
I am bleeding from an open wound with blood that cannot clot.
I grit my teeth, I gnash, I flail, I let chains gouge me deep,
I struggle with futility until I collapse into sleep.
I live now in my chrysalis and I sing my past-self’s dirge.
I await my wings, so that I may say:
I, molted, have emerged.
Authors note:
This work is about the terrifying feelings of growing up and changing (it really does fit Vol 2. Metamorphosis better). I tried a more erratic style of poem here, but kept it rhyming throughout. This is also a transgender allegory.
Written by Gabriel Jacques
Vol. 03 Absurdity
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