A Wasteland of Possibilities

A wasteland of possibilities

A chembath of words in an abyss of ink

That you painted cityscapes upon my limbs with

Erecting worlds, lives, thoughts

In a voice of punishing pleasure as you awakened moons

Echoing timbre I scratch you out, scrape you off

With a steel-bristled smudging, layer upon layer of flesh, bone, soul

Where I find haphazardly fit organs corroded in your acid bloom

I still taste words you tattooed upon my tongue

Their vaporizing toxic throat burn with each inhale, each swallow

Only quelled by noxious fumes of diesel trucks that race alongside me

Exhausted breezes whipping my hair in a familiar rhythm

Your half-hearted pulse

And the lost horizon that whispered of how you painted me a nonexistent define 

But I, woman of pitch roads and high speeds, navigating hell and earth intersected

The gape-mouthed stars’ guidance

Reminding me of a worth infinite and illuminated, coiling and intimidating

I strip you of the right to form my name

And curse your want of editing my existence

For I am time and I am atoms

And try as you might

I’ll never go extinct

E.A. O'Connell