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.

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loss of sight

 

 

his eyes

wide and glowing green

inside something snarled

it’s voice a blend of

grinding teeth and the cracking

of knuckles

 

inside

 

its mouth opening

rows of fangs

the blood of man or woman

 

swirling around

gurgling liquid crimson

like mouthwash

 

outside

sore and swollen

he is easy target

hard to miss this weak thing

walking on rusty train tracks

writing the end too soon

 

i know how this ends –

i just forgot how it started.

lost in skin

which scar is mine?

which smile is mine?

the texture of  pain

all rough, and bumpy

 

i have seen the footage and you have too.

evidence of decay scratched into skin

the backward rolling eye – visionless.

ready to be dissected by scalpels and knives.

 

ripples of light burn as

blackness traps my eyes

starting to outgrow my own breath

 

start at the beginning

 

 

It was

A separation

pounding at back doors

and opening mailboxes

 

It started like

sudden cry

I startled your eyes

with my scarred up skin

the fresh red of my only escape

my sad girl smile

Press play and i am in the hospital

Again

laid out like a corpse

in a blue and white hospital gown

body fighting to live

The IV pumping life back into me

the stiff hospital bed

padded with thin sheeks and

vomit

 

I force myself up

touch my feet to the cold floor

unplug the infusion pump

grip my fingers tight around it

Try and

keep myself vertical but

my limbs give up on me

and a man in all blue

takes my arm before I fall

to the ground, guides me

forward to the washroom

And the smell itself  makes my stomach

Fold onto itself

 

My eyelids fluttering

open and close.

Pause.  

doctor after doctor after doctor

examine the attempt

The curtains are drawn

I peek out hearing

The diagnoses instead of

Patient names.

The sound of squeaking nurses

running and searching

for another drunken scream

 

Give me a reason. to stay alive another day

to break free of this

all of this hell

The words are

caught in my throat

I choke on them

Spiders crawling inside skin

fangs

injecting venom into my bloodstream

I wrote it down but it doesn’t mean

anything because they want me to

Talk.

Play

They fear for my safety

not knowing what freedom feels like

but then again

neither do i.

Fast Forward.

48 Hours later.

 

I hand you the poem

Written on the back of  a napkin.

 

And finally

I talk, ripping the spider

webs out of my mouth

 

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.

words on a board

it’s lit

thats what everyone is saying

thats what the girl says

a gaping giggle flies out her mouth

as her eyes brighten with each singular laugh

hands covering her bright pink cheeks

it’s lit

the cigarette that dangles out

her mouth and catches flame

all of tonight is dancing in the club

spotlights glaring too bright for intoxicated eyes

some creepy guy with yellow teeth thinks hes all

that with his silver chains and his spinning top feet

it’s lit

the broken spine of life

words plummeting down coffee stained pages

mean in the meaning that connects us into story.

the mistress of another universe

cloathed in ashes

what goes unexplained

 

 

It’s a better story if i talk about

Finding flowers in open wounds

If i say it’s alright

If i tell you that i’m better now

That i can see the different

shades of morning again

Like i used to

Or if i talk about the spinning head demons

Running circles but there isnt really anything

Poetic about this pain

I cant make this a pretty ending.