here are nights, so vacant and hushed,
I can feel the texture of my tattered soul moving within me
Black tar, dripping, sticky and thick
A soft, slow secretion of indifference
slopping through the hollow suit I use as a body

They say these are the words of a damaged mind

But not I
To me, this is insurgency

I used to dream of being inside the womb
Fetal universe, black holes and emptiness
Orbiting the massive planet of my mother's booming heart
Tiny yolk body, tethered like an astronaut,
adrift in the tranquil spume of desolate bliss
Tiny fingers inching from chubby stems
reaching for that great thumping whoosh of blood and power
that wobbled like a snarling god above me
My fibrous head translucent as a bell jar
would search with great staring eyes
deep into the godless dark for a light
for a sign, for anything other than indifference
But the universe would never oblige

Look upon me: a daughter of a child and a monster

Frozen without cold feeling nothing unsure,
uninspired, veins full of air, soul fading into the umbra

Who are they to say what is moral when they are broken?
Who are they to say anything about us?

All this, all this
and I want to sledgehammer
and leave nothing but dust

to dust
to dust
to dust

Strangled by a Bible Belt
Strangled by a Bible Belt
Strangled by a Bible Belt
Strangled by a Bible Belt
Strangled by a Bible Belt
Strangled by a Bible Belt