Why do you want me to apologize
for my recurring bad dreams?
It's not like I'm dreaming them on purpose.
In this one, a balloon animal violently expands
into a disabled water balloon. It twists itself
until it explodes and blood sprays out.
In this one, the interrogation chamber is a swimming pool
filled with purple blood. My mouth opens,
then turns into a dilapidated drain,
repeatedly clogged by mounds of torn off hair.
I can't talk, all I can do is retch.
My entire body becomes a gag reflex.
In this one, I am a human skeleton head
with a giant cow udder body
spewing blood until it finally dries out and I die.
So far, I've forced myself awake before my death happens.
I've placed the blood inside my poems.
I don't want to be told to cut it out,
to cut my own limbs off and replace them.
Juliet Cook is a grotesque glitter witch medusa hybrid brimming with black, grey, silver, purple, and dark red explosions. She is drawn to poetry, abstract visual art, and other forms of expression. Her poetry has appeared in a peculiar multitude of literary publications. You can find out more at www.JulietCook.weebly.com.