I found her hiding in my closet, knees to her chest, head down, not quite soaked in blood. After she got cleaned up and tucked in, I watched her unfurl her little claws as she dreampt, occasionally twitching with small tearing movements, slowly winning me over to her side. My villainess floats.


I was I, asleep. Uncanny how things end. A brand new predator in a jungle with no friends. But who could blame me? My hands tattooed red. Face like a baby but I wouldn't change a thing, not a thing. I am I, sleeping. A means became an end. Instead of running I lost myself again. But what have I become? It's frightening even me. The less I know now the more I know I see. I was just a girl then, ridiculous and thin. When I gave up I swam and I swung in, I'm swimming. I was I, asleep. we all used to go to church. Don't roll your eyes at me. You look and you try to touch. I was always waiting on a slow fade in. So sick of searching crowds where I had been. I was just a girl then. Ridiculous and thin when I gave up, I swam and I swung in the legs of strangers, built stronger than my own. It took so long to feel like this was home.


from Cracked and Crooked, released March 3, 2014




The Post Mortems Iowa City, Iowa

Bass and Drums alternative rock duo. Gothique, not gothic.

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