Eviction Notice

reclaiming my body; NO TRESPASSING sign in the yard, BEWARE OF DOG sign at the driveway, windchimes jingling, bell when the porch door swings, a net trap, and a loaded shotgun. a mosaic.

Honey, you better step carefully around that house.
There is a wise man there, and he's got a gun.
He been robbed one too many times, and
now the Castle Doctrine's written 'cross the fence. 
Hunting rifles, concealed carry permit, the whole works. 
Now he sits on his porch for hours, swinging in his rocking chair.
He'll sit out there and feed stray cats, that's why you see so many 'round here.
They wind around his feet while he polishes his shotgun.

Don't get me wrong, he's got a heart of gold, but he protects it well.
He can sense good people. He'll invite 'em inside for a cup of tea and a listening ear.
He'll feed you well too, and once you're done, he'll offer you a hug. 
On your way out he'll yell from his porch, "Y'all come back now, ya hear?"

But if you dare come in his yard with the wrong intentions, you better pray that you get away quick. 
Fuck around, and you'll find out. 

Warm.
This blood is warm. 
It's thick. Porridge-like, almost. It's rolling down my skin like cake batter.
I hear it dripping from the ceiling. Echoing in the silence. 

Another glob falls onto my head. It is heavy and black, like a clot. 
I turn my palms up and cup them together, catching the slimy thing. 
I squeeze it until it pops.
Blood bursts to the walls and gushes through my fingers.
It is warm. 

My mama taught me to stay with people who hurt me.
"As long as they say they love you, they must mean it...
Even if they only say it when you beg them to, they must mean it....
Believe him, baby. 
He just has a hard time showing it.
A lot of men are like that."

Jesus Christ, get me out of this fucking trap.