3/7/25

The will became rancid in my skin and I walked the earth rotting. Letting the world rot me. Forming thoughts of punishment. That’s when I know I have to move my mouth to say. Thy will be done. In the sun, my stench coating the plane of existence. I made the world with spite. My spit was evil, tenuous, coated. My ill will poisoned the view point. I was so evil in my hunched breathing I tired myself out. Everyday I wake up and try to drain the evil out of me. Don't look at it, don’t breathe into it. Drain it out of me. Thy will be done. To give up myself will. God, manifest your will in my life. Slap me. Push me down. To my knees. Let me suck up the letting go. When I realized it wasn't just me. It was everybody worried at the same time. The screaming plea seeded in all of us. The screaming plea of will was rooted in us. I wasn't so unique in my wanting and if others could tread the line of precarity . If others could let thy will be done and scrape it together and get through the day and reap the honey of the world the honey found in time of the day the slowness of the moment and the honey that seeps out of the air in the day in the world.

3/19/25

God give me sex and God give me money. God help me. Fear is an unquenching thing moving my neck around. Moving my head around like I'm a puppet on a lap. A puppet that talks when fear talks oh God with a hand up my ass. My whole body is made for money. Money comes to me through my skin and spit and spirit. I became a fountain and a hole in the wall. I became flesh spittin on flesh. I became strong. For the ways the world provides us through little holes in the Earth and time and space. I welcomed the stranger. Asked the stranger to make a home in my mouth. Asked the stranger to hurt me in ways I couldn't hurt myself. Asked the stranger to kill me. I was loveable. When I wake up with my stomach so close to me. Loveable. Desired. No creeping hands of sin from me. Servant of service. God make my sex a ghost. Make my body a treasure chest. Make my body money. Through the passage. Of flesh. And spit. Talking good to men. God give me money and peace. Take this away from me. My evil sin. My expensive shirt. To look good at the party. God take it. Take it, take me. God, fuck my ass lord.

Maya Martinez is an actress, writer, and performer. Raised in Florida, she now resides in New York. Her full length book of experimental plays, Theatrics, is out now with Wonder Press.