Hand me a Ouija board
throw out some candles and
give me your tarot
the demons are talking tonight
all at once
even with Emile Sande
begging for something to believe in
through my headphones
It’s a map, all laid out
not a single memory
it’s all of the memory, all of it
my room is crowded with them
I am you’re voodoo lady
Pay me in trade, boy
sit in front of me and wait
while I cast bones
while I spin tables
with the taste of cold coffee
on my tongue
I hear stories I don’t want to
forbidden fruit
sweet to the taste but bitter
in the gut
as voices speak through me
each line I write
I’ve paid for in chains
and a pound of flesh
Last night
I prayed my first rosary
Holy Mary mother of God
I’m so tired
I counted the beads
and said the ‘Our Father’
but tonight I’m reminded
what a jealous creature
I am
Tonight, I thought
I was emptied out completely
that nothing would stir
but it does, precious
it stirs in me
as I am now ghost writing
what they want me to say
I’m untalented
all this is a conduit
the praise, the adulation
your five star darling hooker
and I can never tell when
the door is going to swing open
but I have a fear
deep in my soul should
it one day swing open
and the crowd steps through
this time it wont be to deliver the goods
It’ll be to take me with them
There is no Sibley Road for me anymore