Sword of Damacles

Sword of Damacles

When you’re hanging by a thread

and the voices in your head

say “just let go”

When you feel torn and down

you try to take a look around

but find

you’re blind

And the time is running out

and you know what it’s about

you can feel that hanging rope

that blade against your throat

and you lean on in….

© Kait King, 2015

She is nothing like me

Nothing like me

Gingerly I type the words, wondering if I may be the only person who thinks like this. god’s daughter is turning out to be more appalling than horrific, more repulsive than disgusting. I can feel her like black tar in my mind. She calls me to write her out – to layer her like a black wedding cake, all the details – the spiders, the webs, the cockroaches, the mould and dusty aura of her mind. The corners of her life are all in shadow, a shadow I have to be brave enough to step into and feel the darkness that is god’s daughter. She wants to be created but she doesn’t want me – I am nothing to her, just like everyone else.

And she is nothing like me…