When I was fifteen
I built a website
a fan page to a band
I filled it with my poems
I used words over and over
blood death bones hate
Repetition with no subtlety
stuff to make
a Gothic novelist cringe
obsessed with bodily functions and decay
with the cold and the dark

the website still stands and
though I know the password
it can’t be changed
my teenaged rage is encased forever
in the graveyard of the internet

each passing hour, week, year
each word that comes from me
I learn, I change

I won’t awake one morning
from troubling dreams
 to find myself changed
into a monstrous vermin
but perhaps my transformation
will produce some art of worth
from my rotting flesh prison