Innocence Lost

My childlike honesty
The manic pixie dream girl costed me hands and shreds
Again my knees are grated like cheese
Innocence condemned and hung like grapevines
To be fermented by another shot of testosterone-induced fear

There were painkillers
He did slip them into my pocket
But I was still a sunflower plucked before time
I mean my hands ached for yellow but became fishes in the net
And these are just few of the many metaphors my sensitivity predisposed me to paint
Here’s another one:
My heart is a blow-up doll fucked loose
My liquified brain spilled onto strange carpets
But at least I don’t expect anyone else to clean up after me

But have you been taught the lesson of transience?
It jabs you at the knees
So moving forward won’t help with healing
My mother showed me pictures of deaths at 7
By 10 I was obsessed with open caskets
At 16 a good friend died under a truck
His head was all out of shape
And I longed to touch it as I stared down at the glass

I am not made for love on earth
If being an adult means holding back on how you feel
Or agonize about the inaccessibility of your emotions
As if they were some obscure animal almost extinct
I would rather be a tree-hugger
Amongst the white rhinoceros herd
I am a peaceful hippo

Emotional suicide, whatever you call it
It’s a courageous act, to stand by your inner child and hold her hand
Hand her the microphone and
But who am I but yet another Eden dream, a pre-reptile innocence
With no shame about my absolute nudity?


Artwork by Natacha Lesseur “Sans Titre” 2010

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