2023

With my soul ripped open—“jagged!” I exclaim.
I lift my arms toward the sky, “Abraxis—‘tis her name!” Leave me here in soiled clothes, soaked in putrid sin.
Stuff the blood back in my veins so I can breathe again.  
Dare not to remind me o’er looking glass of chards.  
The jagged blade and haggard way that I’ve been torn apart.  See, no one really “got it” as I held in my breath.  
I drank her cruel concoction that masquerades as death.
Hurry! Tap the mic! Time is not a friend!
Abraxis crouches from behind—drunken and hell bent.
—Lori A. Santistevan