I AM NOT A PROPHET! she screamed,
eyes bloodshot, tears dried, lips swollen
hands speaking silently, cutting through the air and
bing the atmosphere.

from the top of the tower, she yelled
(do not touch me)

hey now little girl,
would you like to meet the hopeless?
the despaired, the godless children of your father,
hey now little girl

BUT I CAN'T BREATHE because the air is too thick
with marlboro smoke and my own lies,
my own nailpolish fume, the air is too gray with indecision and fear.

"you are a prophet," he whispers,
"a child of god, perfect and untouchable."

put on the armor of love and of fidelity,
he whispers, eyes reflecting light, reflecting love;

and i'd like to believe him,
jump of my tower.
he says i'll land in the hands of love but i'm afraid i'll land in the arms of cocaine and he says i can't live my life based on fear and i say i can't let go because i'm too

you are a prophet,
he says.
blessed are those who come to believe but have not seen.

i have not seen, i do not believe, i am not blessed.
i am not blessed.

"for it is not the healthy that need a doctor,
but the sick," he says and i say

"do not touch me," i say.
"do not touch me."

i am untouchable, a child of flame.

burning and destroying everything i touch.
touch, touch, touch my hand, shashank

I AM NOT A PROPHET and i need

you to love me.