It touched me. A creature, not named a demon, ate its own heart. As I eat my own heart every day.
This poem has a truth that only a few will ever touch.
It is one of the few I carry inside me.
†
This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit cicadacult.substack.com/subscribe
Want to check another podcast?
Enter the RSS feed of a podcast, and see all of their public statistics.
