Succubus
To witness me is to wither.
A succubus creature I draw love in and abandon myself in the process Stifling my spirit until my only saving solace Is escape. Solitude in brevity — Until I’m barren And then ravenous. I should communicate more. I should express myself better. I should stop being avoidant. I am closed off. I am the problem. In truth, I do express myself. In fact, I talk too much — I fill the space. I get passionate. I get riled. My opinions are grating. My voice is too loud. I write. I create. I live. I am here. Can you hear me? Don’t think I don’t know. Don’t think I am ignorant of the space I take up. It’s all I’ve been conditioned to notice. But to you, my truth is static. I am white noise. My feelings pale in comparison to those With true troubles. We are all self-serving. But why do I feel trapped In service To all but myself? And we are shocked when I do Service myself. Not ‘you’; ‘we’. I too, am shocked at my own boldness — Assigning rank to my needs. I am drained. I am tired of shouting into the void. Why ask to be heard — Beg to have someone bear witness to my heart? I am not avoidant. I am merely myself. Conditioned to prioritise others. Groomed to subdue myself. Dressed into something smaller than I am. A docile doll at your disposal. Spying my smallness — Solution to your sorrow. So, when I do live bigger — When I exist for myself, When I choose myself — The world is taken by surprise. It’s unfamiliar. It’s unexpected. I’ve been here all along. You just didn’t notice me. You have become too accustomed To the static — My white noise. It’s stifled the reality — My duality. I still make choices for me. I still live for me. Albeit quietly… But I exist nonetheless. Why should I frame myself for you? I am a black hole of unrefined creation. Unfinished. Unshaped. Unhoned. An absorber of everything. How have you framed that? I’m raw ore that you cannot fathom alchemising — And yet you have. I cannot sit within four walls for your observation — And yet I do. I cannot observe from behind a glass pane And pray to be heard. Pray to be listened to. Providing you with priceless value Only to be ogled at. Screaming from within my four walls and glass pane That I don’t want to Be contained. Framed. Observed. Admired. Disdained. A novelty — To keep you sane. Leered at and sneered at and Loved and revered. Inspiring and inciting and Invoking and provoking — The fuel and the flame and The heart and the art. Precisely what you need to go on, But abandoned and neglected When things aren’t going wrong. I have so much inside of me. How am I stuck here? I thought my existence was too much Too consuming To be near I feel uncontainable — Yet You have me contained. In your eyes I am framed. But I have no eyes. I just am. Full of hatred, full of love. Full of desire — To be close, To be abandoned. So don’t be surprised When your pretty, novel frame Shows signs of wear Cracks in the pane. There is life inside. Chaos within. Four walls cannot hold me — Swelling smallness is my sin. Leave me alone Let me be free But please — Hang me? Yes, I am the succubus. Though who had me contained? A black hole is the only way I know how to love — for you had me framed.
PART II —
I hung myself On this wall And the one before. I walked into this frame It is I who is solely to blame. And it’s within these four walls And this glass pane That I draw love in and Abandon myself in the game — Until my only saving solace Is escape. Writhe in pain — Force a crack, Art undone — Your ego under attack. The truth of the chaos, This infinite black hole — Shatters any perception Of docility on the wall. A succubus creature, indeed. So here I am again — Prepared to lose everything Until I find a new frame.