---- Consume, consume,
These fiends will be her doom!
Mother's space, her resting place,
the apartment's nightly state
— where the entity stays.
There is no sound
All except the music that holds me down.
.
I can't hear myself
Yet I feel distressed.
.
This plane is a wall
Between life and death.
Here is where the cadavers commence!
.
I am not dead,
This will be mother's end.
.
I cannot reach the living
Because I occupy her world,
Where parasites can torment the soul.
.
The canary of birds
Swirl and swirl,
Bright lights form the room,
Suddenly, my bedroom is the moon,
She is bummed like fumes.
.
The sweet will continue her visits
Not the vestry's wishes,
And her human seed will forgo an eternal possession,
Her mouth is the entrance.
.
The plane is a wall
Between life and death,
where cadavers commence.
.
Jezebel has kept mother trapped in her world
Where rotten apples mold
Worms wiggle from the holes
That Dahlia will forever hold.
.
Dahlia is the next fruit to be
From the spoiled apple tree —
Where the worms eat her insides
And her eyes are catatonic like night.
.
I shall see more of her sweet,
how Jezebel fed off her human seed.
This is the liminal space,
between love and hate,
where life and death separate.
.
My room is my sanctuary,
not her obituary,
love, peace, and support
feelings that my mother cannot hold,
because the tree is rotting her mold
where she cannot be redeemed,
Dahlia's just a smelly seed.