A laugh that feeds on
all the light in the room
Like nails on a chalkboard,
demanding a performance back.

A ritual meant to harvest
another’s root, 
a succubus devouring 
during another’s
solar return.

Binding them with your words
written across the back of your hand.

Carefully painting
your friends with
the brush of envy.

Using words like hot mess, 
crazy, intense, slow, and
fat.

I was brought back to the time when
you pulled up your best friends’s
darkest moment of suffering,
made a public spectacle because of you. 

You wouldn’t let anyone forget.
As your laugh pierced the ears,
of everyone who saw the truth,
A victim of sex trafficking.

You thought the contrast
would make your shadows
look lighter or brighter,
but cruelty is not shadow, 
it is the imposter.

Over and over again,
A show and tell on a swivel,
Feeding on their suffering
and controlling the narrative.

It made me sick to my stomach.
It still does. 

Because what are friends for,
If not to exploit their shadows
from the cycles of systemic abuse, 
for your own personal gain.

A false sun, 
binding their trauma 
warping perception of
their own body until they wither away.

But I wasn’t going to let 
myself die or those I love.

What a tangled web you wove.

It’s taken me a long time
to untangle the web of lies
that cast the gaze in every direction
except your own.

Did you think I would forget,
that you made sure everyone 
saw my mugshot.
That it was a felony. 

Another show and tell on a swivel.

Forgetting my body,
I almost didn’t come back from that.

Because the chaos was never me,
I was just reacting to 
the chaos that was you.

[This post is anointed with protection from harm, as well as those that remember] 🤘