Mud mutters beneath my fingernails,
but it is just a raven,
and I am still a human,
so I must hold onto my mind.
I started sketching flowers on my skin,
swallowing strange pills that weren't made for me,
because I believe that I can believe a change, if I try hard enough.
The gates are closed,
and the dragons are at bay,
but I am a good, God fearing girl,
who covers her hair, shoulders and impossibly obvious breasts in the presence of the Lord,
so I am as close to immaculate as anyone could be.
I must hold onto my mind,
as ravaged as it is by the droning demands of my lesser organs and outside influence.
I took a quick trip out of my twenties,
but they locked the door,
and now,
all I do is dig,
prying at the puerile earth,
pecked at by my ravens and their promises of madness.
My hands are aching from the earth.
I dig all day, but nothing ever grows.
I gave up smoking, but nothing ever grows.
I went to therapy, but nothing ever grows.
I grew myself, but nothing ever grows.
I am not feeding the seeds with the right type of sunlight.
I know this, but I persist,
unable to exist in the same plane as others that I envy,
because it's just not for me.
I am not that type of girl.
I am in awe of that type of girl.
I dream of that type of girl.
I desire that type of girl.
I despise that type of girl.
My Father told me that I was a good girl,
the best girl,
a clean girl,
a pure girl,
so I sit on the grass,
clawing at the empty earth and waiting for God to make me immaculate.
After all, I deserve it.
I have no Joseph.
I want no Joseph.
I will be better than Mary.
No wooden cross,
no nails,
no betrayals.
His second son will live to be one hundred,
because I will not make the same mistakes.
I am an expert in something I've never tried.
Two AM tries to avoid my eyes as it arrives,
but I give it a shy wave,
and I keep waiting.
I wait,
and I wait,
for nothing,
knowing that God isn't coming.
Knowing that I am unworthy,
and that he's decided to stick with Mary.
She was probably so pretty,
wired correctly,
cleaner than I could ever be,
exactly the kind of girl that I see in the mirror,
if I take a selfie and then ask AI to make it lovely.
I wait,
and I wait,
ravaged by ravens and regret,
wondering if something springing from the ground would actually be the silver bullet,
or if it is just another white whale that is destined to become ambergris.
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