I’m a contortionist to your
extortion habit, your
blind assumptions bred from over consumption
Of your thought process; that mad mess, from
over obsessing, living in sadness.
Fake politeness, behind which hides
the viscious, tearing snap, unexpected
leaving teeth marks,
snarling and ripping
right through my bloody heart.
With your lofty ideas, a galleria
of thoughts marbled by patterns, wraught
by knots,
wrapped so tightly. But you see,
I’ve been here so many times, different
versions of you, different signs.
You’re not special, just a lesson, the universe
has been pressing, testing me
Showing me how to rise again,
I almost did once. Ruminating, posturing,
trying to fit in, trying to find my place in
This salty mess, maybe in excess, often
suppressing, almost aggressively.
I’m losing my fear of falling
though, focused on the climb after
I spent too much time crawling.
I am finally exhaling all the
bullsh*t and I won’t quit
Speaking. Up. For. Myself.
Your low lies won’t survive in my atmosphere.
It ends here.

SHANNON MASTROMONICO was born and raised in Montreal. She has been writing poetry/creating art for over twenty years and is an alumni of the Dawson college photography program.

Copyright © 2018 by Shannon Mastromonico. All rights reserved.