I opened up to the Universe

too soon, too much. Saw it all

in visions

that destroyed me.

“That’s your animal spirit,” she said.

I remember when I was a Chief

and my tribe burned down,

I watched in horror and cried

for days

starved myself

prayed to Mother Earth

stayed clear from the survivors

stalked my enemies.

Did she make it up?

Was eighty dollars an hour enough?

to forget my life?

to recreate a new one.

I wrote books for her

was an innocent lamb

in the name of literature;

she could not spell

write,

not sure of anything

except how ghosts hug me.

What was truth, fiction?

non-fiction.

She was in the shape

of my spirit guide,

as he was.

Sometimes it’s me

haunting myself.

I fell for her kindness

while she bit me.

Steal my words as yours

claim you did it all

one day

one eye

will see.

You cannot possess books

they have their own identity.

I keep most of it locked up

still you claim to see me,

until the day

betrayal became poison

in my blood

and I ran so far

I could not breathe in the forest

for a while.

I needed the ocean

to float in possessed words

names, titles…

crying is my medicine now

quit smoking

quit drinking

quit partying

when I saw her fangs.

“you see the beauty in people”

he said,

like it was a curse.

“Open your fucking eyes”

but

“this is what I love about you

you never see the bad in me.”

I took the dog for a walk

and found comfort in the arms

of a ghost

“you have to put up those walls again,” she said

Why?

“To protect yourself from the Universe.”

Trust in your spirit guide

as much as I’ve been fooled

it’s a gift.

Sometimes both become one

and all I see

is the violence

and darkness of the souls

that ate me up and

left me for dead.