return me to Oz.

Kagoatweed’s Rant: R&R, and be inspired, but please don’t steal ideas.

I am here. Suspended in sanctity. Safe in silence. I can see, I can hear, but I lack a face. My world is my own padded room, metaphysical and mine.

Come here, I beckon you. I whisper you a sad song. I heard this melody every time. It’s what kept me sane, but what good did it do? A self imposed white room is all I have now. I have two voices. One hums, one SCREAMS.

I am the Wizard of my Oz. I have more than munchkins at my control. You fail to realize that this time I am in power. You can no longer hurt me. This is my time to get revenge. Payback for every time your scarred me, cut me, made me hold you when you were close.

I make your mouth fill with blood and bile. Your insides churn as mine did. Touch me and your skin will sear. Pus filled blisters will inflate your fingertips. You lack permission to stare.

You can’t fight back. Well, neither could I.

It was rough for cotton. It scratched me every time I moved. It was relentless, whether I moved to fight or I moved to your rhythm. I don’t wear cotton anymore.

Here I wear Nothing. Nothing keeps me warm, Nothing keeps me hidden. Can you see Nothing? I can. It looks soft as silk. Did I once feel that way?

Then my world begins to shake. No pictures fall forward, no glass figurines shatter, but my world is trembling nonetheless. Someone has opened a nonexistent door, and darkness lights my room. I open my eyes to see you.

Your mouth will bruise, your nails will scrape, your ‘love’ will damage me again. I am your rag doll, only alive because I cry. This is truth. Never ending, I never tell.

This isn’t my world any more. I hear. It’s loud, guttural, repetitive. I drown it out with my song. A note escapes my lips. My cheek stings in penance and repentance.

I want to return to Oz, but I can’t even find Kansas. Toto has betrayed me. I could hurt Toto, but I can’t hurt you.

Pain lets you know that you’re still alive. I feel more alive every time. Too much more life, and I fear I may die. Pain is beautiful. I am a supermodel.

When you are done, I don’t notice. I feel you roll off of me, I can breathe again. You grab my arm, drape it over your chest in an imitation of endearment. It’s as close as I’ve ever gotten to love.

A shuffle of cotton when you leave. I, your rag doll, your art, your life, wait as patiently as ever. I linger until the tornado brings me back to Oz, where I can hurdle a yellow brick at your head. I would laugh to see you bleed.

Then I am here. I am safe. I am sacred, a saint, a shrine, and the sacrifice. Queen of Hearts, please cut off my head.