Did you hear the bones crack?
Here I am, reborn once more—
Another self, stripped from the flesh.
Aeris – Witch of The East
A fragile miracle,
My skin soft as moonlight,
My hands as steady as a coffin lid nailed shut.
A violent metamorphosis—
My skin radiant as starlight,
My thoughts shifting like shadows.
My body—
A crucible that devours me
And spits me back out,
An atomic boom.
Try to define me if you dare.
Does my presence unnerve you, adversary?
Their eyes—surgical slits,
Their silence—a slow bleed.
I breathe in your revulsion,
Evade your groping hands,
Vanish into my damp, womb-like cave.
Soon I’ll reclaim my reflection,
Draining my own veins,
Poison tree roots clenching my organs like a vice.
That cave vomits me up—
A child forged from venom and void,
My edges sharpened by the world’s rancid teeth.
I’m only partway through this journey.
Look at the debris:
Ghost-limbs, torn hearts,
Shattered phantasms.
What a spectacle—
The watchers swarm,
Licking their lips while I wrench free
From the festering pit.
They think I’m finished,
But I keep writhing back.
Look closer:
Here rests my defiance,
The unbroken foundation of my torment,
And my plunge into the endless void of becoming.
Still, I remain the same woman
Despite each catastrophic collapse.
The first downfall was confusion—
A slip into the silence I craved,
A haze of white pills and surrender.
The second?
I burned through the Zürich fog,
Unwilling to vanish.
They found me
Piecing myself together,
Layer upon pulsing layer,
Resilient as ever.
Every time, they doubted I’d rise,
And still I haunt this place—
A ghost bound to their disbelief.
Transitioning—
A masterpiece of pain and persistence.
Each brushstroke cuts deeper.
I make it look bold.
I make it feel real.
Call it survival.
It’s easy to disappear—
To shrink, to dissolve.
But the return—
Crawling through the sludge and shadows,
Owning every tattered scar, every inch of battered skin—
That is the defiance they fear.
Oh, it’s worth it.
For that single, stifled gasp—
A moment of awe,
For the monstrous splendour of staying alive.
So, sceptic.
So, critic.
I am your fascination,
Your reckoning—
The untamed, unapologetic horror
Who rises from the grave.
Bone to Flesh? No—
Skin to skin.
Beyond flesh, beyond bone.
Out of my own dream,
Into forever.
