eve becomes SNAKE -- or snake becomes EVE. whichever way ROUND, she is FREER. hell follows her ‘round, hell called MAN, hell called ADAM, trying to make the CHANGING about him. adam demands of god why he is being PUNISHED like this. eve finds GRACE in the dark cracks between rocks. eve finds god in the SOLITUDE. eve finds ABSOLUTION in the red press of her knees / scales into the dirt. eve, UNBLINKING, watches adam rail. adam demands ANSWERS and eve / snake / eve exits the GARDEN to go and find them for HERSELF.
ind. priv. kate fuller of el rey network's from dusk till dawn: the series. as told by duchess. est april 4th 2017.
‘ MOST GIRLS
WOULD BE COVERED
IN SILKEN SHEETS
& SOFT BLANKETS ‘
tongue rises from
fathomless cavity ,
tapping ‘gainst jagged
point of incisors
soldered into
exsanguinous craw ,
will you unleash
the monster frothing
‘neath your flesh
? ‘tis ravenous ,
all bloodied teeth
& delirious groans
. ‘t
goes unseen for
thee are a
master ventriloquist . not yet
not yet .
this girl ,
a crooked halo
above her
head . shoulder
fits into dent
created in brick
wall ,
arms crossing o’er
navy clad breast
. ‘ but
not you
. ‘ and
neither are
you lain in your empire
of ivory sheets
& feather pillows
, nay .
you have risen
to stalk the
streets ; build
a legacy the
world shan’t forget
. death
citizens are piling
up ‘neath humid
soil , their
lives coating your
glacial tongue , thrumming through shrunken veins .
‘ what
keeps you up ? ‘
❝ well , that sure sounds nice . ❞ sighed out like a popped gum bubble : sweet through exasperation . even if she returned to her current temporary home , climbed under the covers and closed her eyes , sleep would refuse to come . motel sheets don’t offer much comfort . gaze follows his tongue , follows to his teeth , sharpened to a point . like fangs . he’s no culebra , though , and honestly kate would really appreciate catching a break and having him end up being just a normal weirdo for once . but she doesn’t flinch away , doesn’t run , no fear courses through her veins . her pockets hold sharp stakes & gunmetal beside her lip gloss & stolen wallet , and her faith in her own skills is perhaps too high . ❝ good eye . no , i’m not . ❞ wry smile , cheeks still dimple with the effort . ❝ just have better things t’ do , i guess . ❞ if better things means wandering , walking until her body begs for rest , until she has no choice but to return to the motel and sleep , hopefully deep , hopefully dreamless . ( her rest is rarely either of those things . )
