house is looked in on but she don't care- too young to be rewired by paranoia. got "circe" tattooed on her ass. got "animal mother" buzzed into her hair.
too young for the news, computer, or thinking money is anything other than stupid. gets all angry at herself 'kuz she dunno how to pay attention, or how to retain information, unless it's the kind picture books are made of. all she wants anymore is picture books...she knows that's where god is at.
it's dark out and she's awake. the animal, cute friendly jaguar, whose eyes she sees through is asleep. these are his dreams in which he gets to know her, which is weird.
this is the kinda girl you'd expect to never figure out potty training even though she wasn't a crack baby (per se).
she's a brat, at the end of the day. to some, this means she's abusive. (whatever this means is missing.)
"i love you, here, lemme show you," she says to him. they both take off their glasses to see that they're really seein'. as if they're preparing for sex.
"just wait momentarily," she says to mr. spider, about her nipples not producing milk. "it's just been a while is all. i just need to warm up. gonna get this thing to work." she's still bein' spun in his web though it's more like being embraced by heaven. he's still there with her acting like he's not spinnin' her in his web.
this is what sex is like when you're unsure of it. and you have a daughter from it, always.
spider, ya didn't need to try to persuade me into your embrace, but ya did anyway 'kuz you was havin' fun. you said shit to me like, my essence was something lunar, therefore my shadow don't exist. thereafter, ya painted me with your silvery, glittering come, so that i could move forward in armor. with their hella obsidian vibes, lookin' at myself in your zillions of eyes was something like scrying- i felt so small (and ugly, obvs) about myself next to you. being human is the most fucked up thing. at that moment, you scurried away, presumably back into the linen closet.
maybe the jaguar woke up, so i had to continue without magick, unless i was gonna cure myself with my addictions.
plants die of frost and butterflies fly south: winter is comin', when we must zero in on hunting, thinking only of meat. and i can't wait to be suitable again- wanna see the cold make sense, and to see things how i feel them. wanna feel okay with noticing distance before anything else. i hate to say this, but i wanna see other people experience this, too, so i feel a little less anomalous about myself.
btw, i'm still coated with come. after sittin' around for forever, refusing to bathe, i turned white. i got used to feeling like i was wearing a full-body cast. the absence of color became me, some rationalizing part of me said.
my name is selene. nobody knows they're prayin' to me like how they do.