RELIANCE OVER REPTILIAN

bottom of the barrel
sediment settles
purity rises to the top.
the abyss calls
but in dirty deeds
stands the Devil
with hands out
so warm
and so
so
so fucking soft.
touch me
he says
but he’s empty
and i’m still
a torrent of tangibility
waiting for opportunity
to destruct and destroy
anything.
Hell isn’t
outside this reality
and he?
he’s a gatekeeper
solely meant for conquering.
right?
touch me
he says
and only he knows
how badly
how badly
my body aches
to lose itself inside this form.
this is welcoming
and loving
and warm
but this is easy
this
isn’t reality
it’s shackles
that seek to keep me
thirsty
stunted
and always
always
starved.
touch me
he says
amid storybooks crumbling
with enduring eyes
half-closed.

…this is a construct
a lie, a prison
of which you only escape
alone.

Jillian wrote this.

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