Invincible

Because I was invincible,

it did not bother me at all

to see the many drenched faces

of my abandoned friendships

approaching me with torches and old rope,

topographies of my throat, 

and protest songs.

“Monster, monster, whatchu see?”

I see people watching me

become a thing I never intended to be.

“Monster, monster, whatchu want?”

To be forgiven for a lot

of things I did and things that I did not.

Well, torches can only burn so hot, I know,

and I was so cold words froze

as they fell onto the mob below.

And the rope, the rope, the rope,

I recognized:

it hauled me into shore, one time,

and subsequently tied

my limbs to lips and legs in beds where I

begged to be released, to die,

while salt cracked off of me all night.

“Well, monster, monster, whatchu see?”

I see people watching me

become a thing I never intended to be.

“Monster, monster, whatchu want?”

To be forgiven for a lot

of things I did and things that I did not.

Well, I could hear them chanting

for my confession, penance, or death,

but, because I was invincible,

I roared for them to come get my head.

“Monster, monster, whatchu see?”

I see people watching me

become a thing I never intended to be.

“Monster, monster, whatchu want?”

To be forgiven for a lot

of things I did and things that I did not,

did not, did not, did not, did not, did not, did not.