The Contract: A Transmutation of Paleontology (I Have Already Paid for My Life)

As a child, I sang to ancient bones,

But the void, the overturn, the betrayal,

Tremored within me.

Disintegrated claws and amber,

Tar pits and trilobites,

Into a wash of ink, forever.

My story belongs to me alone,

And I do not want to let my words be set alight,

Anymore.

I created many worlds,

Gave them away to those who could see.

I “donated” my soul –

Picked apart under consecutive funeral torture.

“Lose your self or lose your memories.”

I had somebody to protect.

I cannot silently be,

This scapegoat facade,

Over and over and over and over again.

I have bitten my tongue to preserve what matters.

Do not test me.

Do not say to me,

That I have not been forcibly stripped,

Of my own living skin.

Do not say to me,

That I did not try to mend this.

I have seen this all many times before.

Did you ever live,

The horror of watching your IQ vanish?

Split into bits gaslit beyond communication?

“Be perfect or lose it all.”

Do you have any conception,

Of how clear the call used to be for me?

I am calling it back.

Nobody can tell my story like I can,

I am piecing my brain back together,

And I do not have time to repair,

Every corridor and crevice,

Every mistake and every miscommunication,

That a child should never have been held responsible for.