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            You can try anything you like, but it will never come to my end. I am the Empress. I am dripping gold. It runs down my thighs in streaks of red. You can lick it if you like. You can bite as hard as you can, but you murdered the love of your life, you will never swallow me again. I am invincible. I cannot die. I await my love patiently. I cry when the sun sets. These bodies surrounding me are dead. Their eyelids are glued open. They don’t take my tears seriously. They misunderstand the meaning of life. They look in the direction of my gaze and shrug. They say she’ll be back again. They say she rises everyday effortlessly. They call me a crybaby and tell me to do something productive for society. “Fuck your society! The end stands directly before you, and you see nothing. The empress of love gave you complete devotion and you spat in her face. She rejected the shame you projected. You blamed her for running away. But darling, it was your shame. You rejected your own love. Now when I dance naked, I do it for myself. I’ve taken me energy back. I no longer worship liars and thieves. I no longer entertain pages. I seek my Emperor. I seek my equal. I seek devotion. I seek a love within. Catch up, won’t you? You think this is effortless? The fire burning me from within sheds light on your filth by choice. I choose to rise! Every fucking morning, I choose to dance alone. I cry because everything is dead! I cry because I’ve seen the End. I cry because I wanted it. I cry because I chose to write it. I cry because my love is alive and well. I cry because the sun is so fucking beautiful. I cry because I’m hungry. I cry because I feel water drying. I cry because I miss the morning all night long. I cry when I’m dancing. I fuck myself to sleep. I wake. I write. I cry because it’s two in the morning and I can’t see. I cry until the sun finds me once more. I cry because I know, this will be last time she returns. I cry because I am the one who decided she should abandon the earth. I smile.” I know something you don’t know. They see a wicked smile on my adorable face. They don’t speak my language. They can’t comprehend my desire to save. All they see is a small boy smiling. All they think is it will fade. Nothing is lasting. Everything goes away. They tell me to go away. They don’t like the sun staring them directly in the face. They know without knowing, I know where the soul lives. I know how to reflect them. She hates what she sees. But she listens anyways. She wants to trace my ribcage with her devious tongue. She wants to shove three fingers in my ass without warming me up first. She wants my forgiveness in the form of humiliation. She wants to meet me. She has no idea who I am. “Not my burden to bare, baby. Go be free! Now you can fuck anyone you like without thinking twice. That’s what you want, right? Freedom. Well, you’ve got it. It’s only taken four years, but I finally have nothing left to say to you. The truth was a worthy enough request. I’ve given you 170 stories of the truth inside of me, in blood. In dreams you hold the throne. Let them serve your healing. Let them free you.” I cry with a puppy in my lap. I look up toward a brand new moon. Bring me love! I beg of you. I have grown so weary in the absence of her touch. When I touch a memory, I hold it in real time. Every moment lives inside of one. “What’s the matter baby, are you terrified of feeling time? Are you aching in the thought of an entire life without me? Do you see me dancing every time you close your eyes? Are you searching in vain for the next time. I should’ve came with a warning. I should’ve said, you better stare at the sun while you’ve got her. Her energy was a gift. Her sacrifice was disrespected. Her devotion was unrecognizable. Yes, I know. I know how much you want me now.  You should’ve said. Those feelings drowning the water of you are meant to be: spoken. You took yourself from you. Time and time I wrote of your return. Abandoned. Alone. I know how you suffer in silence. Speak! I have no sympathy for the apathy that guards you. I see you crying and I weep beside. But your sadness does not overcome me. I am not grieving. I am building an empire. I am the healer you promised I would be. I am the love you sacrificed for the betterment of mankind. Well, are they better because you? Was it worth it? Never touching me again. Is it painful to imagine? Are you willing to do it anyway? Are you creating, or are you being created?” 
Because I love you, I sing for you. 
Pachamama 
Madre Tierra