22 ICSA TODAY
Arts: Poetry
genesis
This story doesn't start with a beginning,
a nice “once upon a time”
or a “in a land far, far away.”
This story starts
when I was 16.
This story starts
right here in my head
which isn't really my head anymore
—but we'll get to that.
This story starts
with a death
that looked like a birth
so no one would ask
any questions.
Grey-tinted skin and deteriorating frame
made me the perfect target
for your calculating, selenite
smile.
My self-destructive tendencies
rolled out the red carpet
for you to stifle my thoughts
in the guise of caring.
You were like the stories I'd written
you were like the daydreams I wove
out of my hair,
except you were real
and talking to me.
We danced like we were bowing down
to each other,
spoke for hours like we were
praying.
The more you gave me, the less I had
until my world was a translucent sheet of glass, shimmering, halfway
reflecting, a window to your world, but fragile. Crystallized air.
People like you should come with a warning label. One that reads,
“Worship at your own risk.”
By Alicen Grey
hypnotist
I met a dangerous man today
he did not tell me his name.
Most creatures would run at the sound of his steps
but I chose to become his prey.
His voice is the chill of snowfall
making icicles out of my screams.
His smile is the broken mirror I blame
for 7 years of bad dreams.
I think that the moon balances in his palm
for he forms and alters the tides.
He pulls at the water in me, in me
and makes me like drowning alive.
I have tasted the dust that composes his bones,
I have flown on the winds of his breath,
I have seen with the light he takes from the sun
and it showed me he scavenges death.
This dangerous man is seducing me
into a choking embrace,
but I am content getting hurt, as long
as the hypnotist tells me I'm safe.
Arts: Poetry
genesis
This story doesn't start with a beginning,
a nice “once upon a time”
or a “in a land far, far away.”
This story starts
when I was 16.
This story starts
right here in my head
which isn't really my head anymore
—but we'll get to that.
This story starts
with a death
that looked like a birth
so no one would ask
any questions.
Grey-tinted skin and deteriorating frame
made me the perfect target
for your calculating, selenite
smile.
My self-destructive tendencies
rolled out the red carpet
for you to stifle my thoughts
in the guise of caring.
You were like the stories I'd written
you were like the daydreams I wove
out of my hair,
except you were real
and talking to me.
We danced like we were bowing down
to each other,
spoke for hours like we were
praying.
The more you gave me, the less I had
until my world was a translucent sheet of glass, shimmering, halfway
reflecting, a window to your world, but fragile. Crystallized air.
People like you should come with a warning label. One that reads,
“Worship at your own risk.”
By Alicen Grey
hypnotist
I met a dangerous man today
he did not tell me his name.
Most creatures would run at the sound of his steps
but I chose to become his prey.
His voice is the chill of snowfall
making icicles out of my screams.
His smile is the broken mirror I blame
for 7 years of bad dreams.
I think that the moon balances in his palm
for he forms and alters the tides.
He pulls at the water in me, in me
and makes me like drowning alive.
I have tasted the dust that composes his bones,
I have flown on the winds of his breath,
I have seen with the light he takes from the sun
and it showed me he scavenges death.
This dangerous man is seducing me
into a choking embrace,
but I am content getting hurt, as long
as the hypnotist tells me I'm safe.
