without a pulse

only seeds were left

her white-washed cheeks

and those protruding bones.

just the little girl

next door in the window

pounding stained glass

with the hurry of heartbeat

now, there are only echoes of words

don’t look through the curtains

stay in the back alley

skipping over puddles,

smoke fills the house

abandoned and broken –

without a pulse.

jack in the box

 

 

door slammed shut

keep out sign hanging on the door knob

 

panic lives in her chest

winding the jack in the box

anxiety jumps with its

white clown face – screaming

pounding and pounding

stealing another 24 hours

 

messy bed and unwashed sheets

are left,

twisting and turning around daytime

hair falling out

unwashed face

unbrushed teeth

the rotting of woman

 

her knuckles start to yellow

and her heart hardens

sagging bags under eyes

droop like grandma’s skin

 

the dark creases of loneliness

stiffening the body

wide awake with the night

holding hands with one another

skipping over cracks in the sidewalk

nails painted black

chipped and scratched

 

her toes get caught in the traps

left out for squirming mice

the tight pinch of reality is just a slap across the face

the handprint screaming red over her right cheek

shapeshifter (poem)

 

 

you sharpened

your words with

      a knife

dug deep into me

 

the bathtub,

fills with my

blood

clogs the drain

 

I drown in  

 your dirty hands

your rough and

 sharp touch

 

you scrape off my tears

off with your

rusty   finger nails

bruising the bags

under my eyes

medicated

On destruction

 

you carved your initials

into my chapped lips

Stripped me down to

You’re deathly standard.

A fire cant burn forever

The flames begin as bright rage

a train wreck of rushing water

through broken windpipes and

out of tune voice boxes/

an endless series of darts thrown

head on

a fistful of promises and crushed violets

an exposed wire

knotting my arms into concrete

force of bitter beginnings

 

but you know what they say

a fire cant burn forever

bed fourteen

Stomach folding over

Itself Blinking eyes

Closed and open

To what I have done

Fading In and out

Here and Not here

Her name is Ally

She has black hair Tied

in a pony tail Says

that six years

of University she

hates writing Mint

sheets Scratching

skin Alone in the humming

Silence of porcelain

Reminders Pens

clicking Iv in

my arm Pain

shooting through my right

arm They do not know

what this is like Tonight

Bed fourteen Digested

two handfuls of Tylenol

Now the taste of rubber

Won’t get out of my mouth