August 5, 2025
Don't mistake this heat for healing.
I ain't whole. I'm haunted.
I'm the bitch they left burning
and came back for the ashes—
as if I'd giftwrap 'em some grace.
They skinned me
like truth they didn't wanna face.
Stripped my gold down to bone.
Dry. Cracked. Left to rot in daylight—
Called it growth.
Said it was love.
Called it tough.
Called me too much.
But this mouth now?
This mouth got knives in it.
This spine got barbed wire in every vertebra
this heart?
It's armored and arsoned—
Beating,
beating.
beating loud,
beating black,
beating bloody
and alive.
You wanted a corpse.
I became a cathedral.
Now Kneel.
I don't forgive.
I unfold.
I remember being the room
everyone screamed in,
and no one bothered to clean up after.
I was the floor they cried on.
The mirror they cracked.
then cursed for showing their face.
But I ain't glass.
I ain't your grief.
I ain't here for absolution.
I'm here to burn the blueprint
and build something that bites back
So let' em choke on the smoke.
Let 'em weep into the cinders.
Let them call it bitterness—
I call it bloodline.
I call it survival with a snarl.
You call me angry.
Good.
You should be afraid
of what I become
when I finally decide
I don't want to be
good
no more.
—butch.
July 21st, 2025
