I will write, here on the walls

I'm climbing to the roof and I think I recall

Person-phone! Person-phone, quickly, get go get the door,

My words have no meaning unless I'm under

The floorboards, the only home I've ever known.


Person-phone, person-phone,

You're my only friend

In this land of wet isolation

But you don't have a name

Person-phone, person-phone,

Who are you with?


He sounds like he's abusing you, but you say to me with wit,

"Oh, he wasn't always like this, it's only been since

The flood where some survived

That he started getting so angry, and then I arrived

To help ease his suffering, his misguided pain.


You see he doesn't mean to be like this, see, he says with pride

He loves me, forever, my maiden of Spring, my ripe ruby Pomegranate,

You believe me, don't you, that I can be better,"

– sure thing, I say

But Persephone, I burst out, with true accidental urgency – it can't hurt, can it?

He says these things, and it's beautiful, I'd admit, however,

Does one who truly loves wails on your body like a steak in need of tenderizing?


To keep your heart soft and gullible would be the only miracle he could manage.

If he truly loves you, he would treat you with gentleness and grace,

The kind of thing that here is commonplace, but to you he takes advantage.


"You think so?" she said, with a newfound bewilderment.

Just like myself, she's never had a real friend before.

Silver dust, decipherment, necromancy and enchantments,

That's what is required, for a man to behave sweetly,

For that was all that she's ever been shown,

and pure control is what her father presents.


Persephone, I said, I never struggled to be on my own,

But even if I did,

I would rather be alone than with someone like him,

A beast in knight's armor, that's what he is.


"Who are you?" she said, flabbergasted, in awe of such wisdom.

"Are you a winged serpent, or perhaps, one of those mythic Griffin?

For surely a mortal could never speak of such divine things, of something beyond my own home.

I came from the heavens, so I should know everything."


No, Persephone, I must admit,

You can think that if you wish,

But the truth is,

I am the lowest,

The lowest type you'd ever witness.