AMATISTA

A Seagull Bathtub

I discovered a while ago that I am a bizarre and beautiful version of Frankenstein, many bodies intertwined, more than just one at once, a plethora of souls, a sassy and powerful Pandora’s box.

Each language I speak is a tongue I live in, I know not how this came to be, a babel tower inhabits my skin. There seems to be no me at all, nothing but this rhythm that possesses the typing that roles.

For so long I’ve been whishing to write my own tale in English, but prejudices would not let me go. I’ve been tight bound against a wall I hadn’t seen or could not tow. Today I stand free of the same chains I built for me, I stand tall, I live strong.

I thank my inner fiend for this cage he crafted, singularly designed to trap mind over matter, a deep pit where love for magic, creation, art and song would go to rot. Who could I be? Be not this bars? Where could I fly? Who could I touch? How long until all the strings attached resolved themselves to fly? I suppose they could be birds, seagulls perhaps…

I love to see them seagulls fly, those pointed wings, that pretty smile, let me not forget those blood-stained eyes, power, intensity, wrath. They stand free, they are exactly what they wish to be. They eat dead bodies, they circle and flap, gracious white feathers sustained by rotten thumbs.

An old ladies’ rotten corpse, fuel off light, dead in a tall building by the sea, OH! seagulls I can hear your scream, circle this wrist and let me die, eat this chain, bathe me in gold, I feel your power, I revel in your soul.

My arms are rivers, the flow downwards, upwards, sideways and swirl. I feel the panting of a woman there, rowing a boat upstream, let it go my dear, the red river will take you home, to the depths oh fiery hell where you belong, a place of humid darkness and crazy songs, a place of fire, lightening and bolt.

Let it go my dear! The heat of a thousand snakes will shake you home, the venom of their rattles will play the rhythm of your song. Dance until your feet hurt! Dance with those hips you shake! Darling dear, feel the orgasm surge, explode with the joy of hell.

I mean not to write a wrong with a right, I mean not to pretend to be what may, I just be, just am, an explosion of colour, a wing of might. I seem to stumble upon a mirror, I seem to be rumbling, circling sideways, avoiding, humourlessly crying. Where am I in this game of reflections? What did I came to say again?