cut

A slick and clean nick of the skin, horrified brown eyes.   She is hurting for you, but you relish in that red. Cold water sizzling on tormented flesh   A flap of dilapidated prints melded with iron. One quick stroke of the ragged metal was all it took   All it took for you…

rack and the screw

I, myself, forgot I even existed.  I have attached meaningless things to my name, filled my home   with unwanted trinkets, neglected memories. But I have not forgotten you.   Those sunken eyes. I’d have killed myself trying to see you again, in that sluiced town   which held nothing but murky waters. The name is one I’d become familiar…

but colorless. Colorless

I avoid mirrors at all costs. I cannot stand the sight of her, the way she looks. Those ghastly hips and foul teeth, sunken lids with irises the color of contaminated mold. She writhes and speaks such nonsensical things, I do not understand her. She does not understand her. A twenty five year old placenta,…

two cycles of Hades

You wither under these blue skies, as if anything more coruscating than that black beacon of death will hurt you. I admire you because of it; how your coating seems infinitely polished when icicles are writhing, waiting to impale your flesh. That sweet kiss of rime nestling in your roots, halting crimson orbs in their…

Bemini, glistening

She’s fierce in the way that she takes-   stoic face, with eyes like the reddened sun. Glossy and deep, leading to two trenches on her cheeks, that could swallow you whole if need be. Like it’s the only way you can breathe, like it’s the only way that you can see. Sea tides fall…

the lover

It is unsightly the days you visit. Unwelcomed and perturbed, but invigorating it is. Your jealousy rearing its ugly head at my ephemeral bliss, your claws are never subtle. They are beautiful and ragged, jarring scratches on my heart. It is you dragging me by the roots of my hair, leaving my toes barely grazing…

seventeen

Twenty five years and what have you done?  You are still just a little girl, a little girl  afraid of the world. Terrified of being lost, invisible   to the world that already doesn’t know who you are.  You do not exist to them, and it’s so pitiful you think so.    When I see you- …

eris

I am burdened by the thought of you, you with your four-letter word,  pinpricks under the skin. It is calamus and brine. No real  appeal to the endearment aside from the fact that you rip the soul apart- limb from limb. You are a fate worse than death. Holding  figures on red threads, the promise of that…

miles in between

  For both of us... We just seemed to act like nothing happened, like what we had didn’t exist; and I realized it was easier that way. It was easier to act as if we weren't one, like we didn’t live on the same plane of existence- didn’t care about the miles that were clogged…

asphyxiation

He had hands of burnished mahogany- kept that palm lodged round my throat; digits piercing skin, leaving my veins prickling.   You did it for the burn, sudden power rush, and oh, how I just loved to watch your eyes darken.   You held me, propped my body between sheet cuffs, sending me right over the…

alveolus chains

Remember who you are- what you were before they told you, you weren’t.    They dreamed you up, casted false entitlement upon you. And you- you oh so credulous bairn.  Wide-eyed, and trusting, actually believed those fiends.  

bonds

I’ve been dreaming of you again darling-  of your sharp blades, your   crass edges eating up my longevity.  How easy it always is succumbing to  that sliver of servility you gift me with.  Nobody makes me crave pain quite like you do.   

ballads

    life is such a fickle thing with Her obsidian talons sinking round Your heart threading into arteries the prospect of Death looming over you Why would anyone want this      

day births

    The prospect of time always teases me around this period of the year. Another age is becoming of me, it’s never exciting. There are bonds in these little numbers that hold our life together, a prisoner to these fates. Even when I was younger it never made me smile, why is that? Why…

fevers

  Your body  Hurts me as the world hurts God. - Sylvia Plath   I’ve always loved a brute,  brute of a man like you With  your razor-sharp tongue,  crystals in your veins The hand  housing icicles, eager to  impale