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AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF
A CLAM
III
AT the age of my despair
I became tender and swollen with confusion
my body festered like a damaged fruit
Satan's bitten apple
I prayed to God for
healing
but there came none
I ate further into my womb
lapping at the evil fires
only to cry out in self pity and doubt
deeper still
crawling like a cockroach
beneath the bowels of disgrace
down
down
down
my voice echoing with contempt
and there
amid the sewage and excuses of my life
there amid the maggots of my self deceit
I found a key
no bigger than a heartbeat
no less than a dream
And with this key
I began again
I unlocked the doors to my bones
and released the prisoners
Once chained in my dungeons of hate
displayed so quietly like trophies on a wall
I rewound the clock in my heart
its seven chimes ringing out
scattering demons
like spiders across the ceiling
To this day
I have not found them all.
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