torn apart by hungry
hands seeking succor
in the swirling sand

i was never
going to slay demons
or save the day
not the prophecized
hero or chosen one
any royal birthmarks
were beaten into a
mass of ugly truths
the only star that
fell on the day of
my birth did so out
of shame.

less than the sum of
empty promises made
at the edge of orgasm

i am a stain
a cursed collection
made from balled up
spiders and venomous
disdain, left to roam
these desolate plains
leaving blackened
footprints over verdant
fields where tulip
bulbs buried upside
down blossom desolately
in hell.