i.
My name is Lucius Malfoy. Once the word was mine. It was stolen. I am earning it back. I once indulged myself in seclusion. It is time to move out of the shadows. My bones are steel like the day I was born. Laughter rolls like hot lava out of my chest. I am half sick darkness, dripping down the edge of the moon, interwoven in my own flesh. But I am light itself. I am the dominant force of my own existence. You think I am not a god? Touch me and I'll burn you.
ii.
I doze, suspended in mid air, body drenched in sweat. My mouth tastes like chocolate, I have tasted nothing but chocolate since I came here. My stomach is boated. I almost don't see him peeking through my window. He is inside all of a sudden, like a flash of lightning. He stretches over me like a thin sheet of dark clouds, the silhouette of a demon. Mmm…what a warm blanket. I am soft and submissive in this heat. A tap of his wand and my legs grow swollen and clumsy, breasts jingle like black pompoms on my chest.
Let's make a baby, he whispers in my ear.
He squirms like a toddler in my lap. I close my eyes and learn the curves of his body with my fingers. To use it against him.
iii.
I am bathing knee-deep in snowflakes inside a giant swimming pool. The ceiling was painted like the sky, which were melted scrapes, against the pool. I painted with red and grey over it. All kinds of pictures. Rats and roaches. Jade peonies and scarlet ribbons. The pool is a polished delirium. I lift up my chains here. I lap at the skin of my arms and press my lips together. I am making love to myself. In front of me floating like a dead fish on water is a razor. I long to kiss the edges of the blade. I grab it by its tail and edge it towards my neck. It seems to like it there. I smile. It's crawling past my ear and up my skull in a flash. In my lap lays a handful of crumpled sunrays.
iv.
I am 4 in this photograph. I have my collection of cardboard stars lined up in front of me. My hands are dirtied with glitter ink. I am chubby and perfect, like the baby my belly can't give. I refuse to look in a mirror. My eyebrows are fused and rusted over, my cheeks hollow, my irises faded. Little Lucius and me are twisted reflections of each other in a shattered mirror. Wings of razor blades shoot out of my back.
v.
Music is drummed into my skull. It shimmers and ripples off my skin. I am trapped inside a stretchy cocoon of nightmares. I barely squeeze through the cracks. The crowd makes way for me. My chest is already tingling. When the notes finally come out, they are shrill and hop in front of my eyes like restless rabbits, a deep shade of fuchsia. I burst into song.