Pressed files (Case No. 747)
I'm fixing a hole,
revealing my soul,
born from the roots- long past.
A self pit prophecy,
trapped, full of blood in rivalry.
The destroyer, disguised-
pinned across her heroine's chest.
Protection has worn the necessity,
on engraved fissures of heredity.
I sift across pages held; listed
on internal bookshelves, to turn to,
in, and against myself. Looking deep-
a search of remedy. Amongst this distortion (eventually) I find my pain in burrows,
to suppress what lies within
my spurious trench. A reaction- I jump in.
Feet take off, to sudden delusions
of certainty. Protective possessions
are hit broadside~ I discover them
furled up, obsessively tight.
Sources of deception; in review,
I reveal that tripped reality
under classified sheets; exposing
the browbeaten-double-dealers
in bullet vests. The fervent heat
blisters my chest. I feel it knocking, an unwanted guest. Have you guessed?
You would be surprised....
it's the No. 1 cause of homocide.
Charged with instincts, can
attack at risk. Except, in a case-
every pat down and frisk,
it solves one; the crime
reveals the damage done. And still, regrettably lurking. All genes aside,
let the blood dry. I must remember,
it's more assumption than a bearer of deed.
A villain's contortion; but
who planted the seed?
~Jessi (poem)