Commodities.

I am a product of the mind and soul.

My body merely encases my flagrant bearings; an ostentation, a medium for the world to inscribe upon: it is simply to contain the clashes of enigma within me. It is only an envelope that can touch, for it is only my soul that can truly feel.

You destroy this charade.

Exploit this fabricated ornament.

You forget that my womanhood is inviolable and that you cannot lash out onto something as impalpable. You ignore the imbrications of thought and emotions in me that work together like thunder and lightning and true to you insouciance, you stand beneath a susceptible tree. You seek refuge where I can easily tear you apart, as you crouch low beneath the glare of the anticipatory moonlight.

I have known those like you,

And taught them the way of the world.

But wait, fear not,

First let my story unfurl.

I can see your profane thoughts becoming travesties of your deluded notions, as you inch closer to me. You smell of hunger, like a tusker driven insane with desire. You finish me quickly and dust my brazenness off your fingers.

The cuts on my sleeves, the blood on my jeans are open doors revealing the incompetency of your mind. I laugh at your dubiousness; your masculinity reigned over by idiocy. You ripped open the façade that contained me, seeking euphoria from what you reveled at destroying. You think I’m withering, trampled upon by your cold feet. You wrong yourself by claiming to squander my sovereignty, by assuming command over the arched shape of my bodily throne. You wish to approach me once again, look closer at the outline of my ragged sails. You crave to watch my cheeks flush with crimson hues of blood and shame.

But stop and hear me, feel the euphonious laughter erupt from my throat. Does it echo like an indignant tyrant, moving to and fro, sounding a bell in your ears? It’s time for you to caress your folly, with the same endearment and lust that you hammered onto me. Run the grains of realization over your exploitative finger, again and again, till you see not just sand, but crystals reflecting your erroneous beliefs.

You have demolished my adornment while mistaking it for my incapacity. You have laid waste to the skin and bone that merely festooned the radical power at my core. And now that you finally agree to see me, you will surrender to the exponential surges of energy within me.

I am cataclysmic, you see:

I supersede the object, you think me to be.

Stop begging for mercy; don’t fear the brunt of my condescending wrath. I am myself a child of burden; cursed to never exercise the menace principled in me. I cannot endanger you, only ask you to look beyond what opulence speaks.

Your guileless brothers destroyed the shrine, burnt the meaningless bricks of temples to the ground. While the cadence of power and delirium that was inherent to its sanctity, still knows only peace. Some of you dappled mists of acid on flowers, expecting their beauty to shatter excruciatingly. But look at the garden, not as a foundation of flamboyant flowers, but as a temple grown on the tenacious hold of nature’s roots.

I belittle you, now that you scream with apology mirroring the horror of your soul.           I forgive you, seeing how you have harmed no one but yourself.                                               I pity you, watching this revelation get you crumbling down.

You tried to contain me but ended up setting me free. You broke open the shackles that restricted me, feeling the chains governing me, instill you with diabolical pleasure. I think we’re both broken. You- at the vortex of your existence and I, just uncovered to shed my gilded framework.

You forget that a blind man looks beyond the deceptions of the prosaic present. You disregard that my physical renderings only make me the commander of my eternal form. Thank you for purging me from my encasement. I am a sword, freshly drawn from my sheath. I have cut you deep. Caution; for the wound may never cure.

I have scarred you forever,

Both You and I are spoils of war.

We are bound together,

I am the remedy that your folly is impelled to conjure.

Hear me out,

On whatever it is that you infer,

Hear me out,

I only just beg to differ.