As a kid, I had lice like eight times in the span of three years.\u00a0 It was ridiculous.<\/p>\n
Each night was spent soaking my hair in chemicals and my father, with no sense of my pain, yanking the smallest comb you’ve ever seen in your life through my hair to pull out each speck of lice and egg, bit by bit.\u00a0 It was absolute torture.<\/p>\n
It was such a big part of my life for so long.\u00a0 My things were thrown out again and again, yet somehow they kept coming back, passed among friends and passed back to me.\u00a0 Half of what I owned was covered in plastic, taken off and put on again for three years, before we finally just left it on.\u00a0 I was forced into isolation.<\/p>\n
It seems stupid to talk about, but it became my entire life for quite a few years.\u00a0 I began to sympathize with the lice, as I knew they were just trying to burrow into a new home…\u00a0 How would you like it if your house poured chemicals on you every night?\u00a0 Which is why I wrote a poem about it.<\/p>\n
War is a frisky lover of mine,
\nPlayful and naughty.
\nI hope my steady doesn’t see the scars,
\nBut I know she will hear me scream
\nFor my mistress amidst slumber,
\nRemembering how
\nMy sweetest sprays her blood inside my mouth.
\nI don\u2019t mind it too much;
\nIn fact,
\nI vie for it,
\nDigging my hands into the human flesh,
\nTearing it apart, bit by bit.
\nIt looks so tantalizing
\nI just want a bite.
\nI can see the child I\u2019m fighting for,
\nFor the battle tears apart my own land.
\nWill he remember me tantalizing over human meat,
\nAs it hangs in my hands?
\nI wonder,
\nFor we haven\u2019t known each other long.
\nHe hesitantly reaches forward, but not for me.
\nI watch him dig into a piece of flesh.<\/p>\n
War is not faithful to me.
\nShe’s frivolous,
\nA wild spirit.
\nI watch as she softly kisses my enemy,
\nAs the corrosive acid of her spit
\nAnd the enemy’s poison
\nRuns through my home.
\nWar drags a lingering hand across my chest,
\nAs she passes sultrily,
\nRiding the toxin like a wave.
\nLike a nervous fan,
\nDeath stumbles after,
\nCorrosive and beastlike.<\/p>\n
I watch as my mistress envelops my son in a tight hug,
\nAs death scorches through his body,
\nMaking its way past the dirt and grime,
\nRight to his golden heart.
\nI watch as parts of him,
\nSimply\u2026. Fall right off.
\nHim, who is half of me,
\nAs though they were just borrowed.
\nHe looks like melted cheese,
\nStretched between two hands.
\nI lose sight of him in the thick brush.<\/p>\n
The enemy rears his ugly head once again,
\nMaking the land rumble.
\nAnd in the midst of war,
\nI sprint forward in the chaos.
\nIt feels as though I am falling,
\nEvery step furthering me into an abyss;
\nA void in which I do not know what I am fighting for.
\nA comb runs through the scalp,
\nSo thin that I cannot escape.
\nI am flung off.
\nJust a little speck of lice
\nOn a big haired head.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
As a kid, I had lice like eight times in the span of three years.\u00a0 It was ridiculous. Each night was spent soaking my hair in chemicals and my father, with no sense of my pain, yanking the smallest comb you’ve ever seen in your life through my hair to pull out each speck of … Continue reading “What’s on My Mind”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":28,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2052"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/28"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2052"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2052\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2057,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2052\/revisions\/2057"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2052"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2052"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2052"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}