SpectreLand

I keep the horror in my bedside table drawer
turn it on high when I need a blood transfusion
and a bad dream
the hinges scream
wake up the neighbors
they cover their ears
knowing it's happening again
who is that raven haired ghost?
they know I'm haunting the rooms
moving the walls
tossing the furniture
ripping up the floor boards
and in the morning
it will all be back in place
just like no one was ever there
the quiet
will be frightening
stillness
becomes a horror of its own
I own it
parade it around
like a rotting gown
all laced Victorian will
mourning enamel etched into the crowns
little skulls
with grinning faces
a flowing of eyes
drifting in on gossamer mist
the staircase breathes
shifts and creaks
the walls rupture
the yellow paper covering it
runs about the room
in skittering little patterns
around the edge
that woman chases it
never leaves it
I watch her struggle
float to the ceiling
drip blood onto the heads
of craning necks
and tourists
there's a severed limb
in the hallway
it makes a nice decoration
you can plant flowers
in the empty sockets
we got trapped here
when we tried to leave
violence pinned us down
like butterflies
on felt backgrounds
we are the edge
the living fear
and move as vapor
through these timeless scenes
unrelenting in our recollections
always fearful of what we knew
we have no end
we are the reflection
we have no way
even the greatest exorcist
can not clear us out
we are the denizens
of this house
and I know above all else
there is nothing better
on the other side

Morning Star

here is where
quiet monsters
come to settle

this will to darkness
and this will to understand it

at the end of dreams
these monsters of many arms
crooked faces
multiplicities of eyes

here is where
we stand
face to face

the abyss opening
and closing
like a mawing mouth

sucking us in
to those black stars
that black reach

big old holes
in the side of the universe
blinking back at us

unmoved
unmoving

unwilling

it stares us down
flattens choice
and providence

none will stoop down to save us
we are alone
as on a darkling plane

unwanted
and unwatched

God hated what he created
and abandoned the seat of heaven

I Hate the Word

Is love not a vile and formless thing?
Is it not all tripped forward in flesh
hastened to punished hearts
and be quickly thrown up
like two fingers down the throat?

I vomit these words up
like Clean Christians
applying hot pokers
to naked pagans

I twist 'i love you'
around snarled lips
with a tongue so bruised
in deep purples
that only spit and bile
come to the surface
and gurgle out around
my crooked teeth

all like a buzzing
of collected bees
under my wane and pale skin
and in silk covers
all wrapped in finery
face applied
and held still like granite
I find no comfort
and spew blood upon white gowns
and smiling sycophants

I spit up love
oh wretched thing that you are
I spit it up
onto the lapsing scenery
the collapsing dreamlessness of morrow's day
where garish sun sinks to Death's kingdom
and lovers become anchors
to my blackened vomitous soul
in the dark depths
of frozen oceans on the point of the known world

tread not where monsters touch
the faces of fair maidens
and in my fury
I am blind
o'er I catch your love all up
in all but these crooked sharpened teeth
and tear it to little bloody rags
on the edge of your fraying mercy

I cough up 'i love you'
in great black chunks
and gouge my green eyes out
for this is a vile and formless thing
this horrible love
that has found its way
to the bottom of my bottomless heart

The Thickening Wood

I ran through wet tree branches
and felt the recoiling sting shock me
back to my own disheveled mind.

With little droplets of sap in my hair
and deep red welts blooming on my skin
I ran, feet pounding against the needled floor.

I ran, even as the rain pelted me pink
against the dark green hands
reaching for me.

I ran, sloshed through the creek,
upon smooth coloured pebbles worn flat
and perfect for skipping.

I ran through tall grass, with the alfalfa in bloom,
scraping at my thighs;
little purple flowers caught up in my dress.

I ran and startled big black birds to air
a great rush of wings
past my ears, all frightened.

I slid down the hill once dust
now turned to mud in the rain,
splashing up my knees with wet dirt.

I pounded down the road, a muddy rut,
my breath coming in rattling gasps,
my legs aching fire sinking into the damp ground.

At the end of the trail,
I dove back into the thickening wood
as the sticker bushes clung to me, pulling me from my path.

The canopy closed over my head,
lushed green deepening the further I fled
into those flats of wild roses and bull pines stretching for the sky.

The black berries brambled in my way
and ripped at my skin with swaying thorns;
sweet juice staining the souls of my feet black; berries crushed under foot.

I ran, not once looking behind me but frantically sprinting faster;
I outran my slicked thoughts of you to the crumbling river bank,
and when I got there I dove straight in and let the flood waters pull me away.

Lips as Red as Blood

my thighs are slick in a rush of blood
crimson thickness is running down my legs
past my knees
pooling at my ankles

it's filling up my mouth
when I part my lips
I can only speak in burbles
and spit the ground all red

the dirt drinks me deep
filling up the cracks in the landscape
my femininity dripping
a trail of jeweled droplets to his door

he can never understand my comfort
in the drips left behind on the white tiles
as I slip from the kitchen to the bedroom
seeking lips to kiss only hard

he cringes in the face of the female rigor
that stiffens my belly
with unkempt want and forgetful desire
he does not understand what it means to bleed

to bleed with no blooming wound
to sit folded in on your self
with fingers tipped in blood
and eyes heavy in unfocused thought

the ground is thirsty for me
the moon tugging at my white dress
slowly turning crimson in the fading night
as he twists nervously at the door

he is goose stepping around my trail
gingerly picking his way to a clean spot
he quivers, 'I can feel the red tide of you slamming into me
even with my back turned'

I whisper through lips as vermilion as blood
'then never turn your back on me
and you will never have to know the nightmares
I have been saving especially for you
never turn your back on me
and I will not come howling for you in the night.'

I take my white dress and crimson flowers
blooming all over the room
and fly up to the ceiling
grasping only shining bloodied kisses

I leave trails of garnet on his face
I tug at his hair
I weave in and out and in again
dipping my red fingerprints down his back

and when the night cries in staining tears
the patches he is unable to bleach away
he will remember me all in white
and know what it is to be wanted in only a hard red way

I Knew Right Then That You Would Break My Dirty Heart

And you might wake up tomorrow
with the strange taste of blood
in your throat

and you might wonder where the summer went.

You might wonder about the cold place next to you
and the strange perfume upon your pillows.

You might bury your head in your arms
and remember unusually cool skin on a sweltering night
curled against you
whispering something
that sounded like a dirty confession of love.

You might think you remember me
but I am just a dusty ghost
on your tongue
that you collected one warm night
from the trash cans in the alley
and I have gone home
with my dirty pitch black heart
to the clean white snows of Winter's hands
and the gentle caresses of Fall's windy tongue
to calm myself of your summery lies,
your heated hands
and your golden shining skin.

Drowning Days

You have that slow-drowning feeling to you.
I can feel your fingers around my ankles,
and you are pulling me down under perfectly calm blue-green waters.
Wrapping yourself around me like seaweed;
A slow wet hug squeezing the air out of my lungs.

You can breathe down here.
You can open your mouth and let the water flood in.
You live on the tiny microbes filling your belly.
Feed on their brief lives and snuff them out with your constant hunger.
Your eyes illuminate from the inside out so you can see in the darkest depths.
Your skin has turned to scales in these ebbing tides.

I, however, am drowning in your sweetness.
You are whispering "Ophelia" in my ear;
over and over and over again.
I can feel petticoats growing heavy around me;
these delicate chains of blue flowers twisting in my fingers.
I stare at the too clear sky and feel the water lapping at my cheeks.

"Ophelia... Ophelia...
He is crushing your heart;
pulling you down.
Can you not see his insanity,
bringing you to sandy ocean floors and rocky river bottoms?
Your body will flow over miles of sunken civilizations,
forever immortalized in sailors' hoarse-throated songs.
Ophelia... Ophelia...
You can not breathe water like air, girl..."

These ebbing tides that keep you alive with movement,
will eventually wash my body ashore.
My mouth full of pearls;
My eyes covered over in scales.
Your marshy touch will dress my body in cat-tails and swamp bugs;
Little brightly coloured fish will dart from my heart to my lungs.
Seabirds will nest in my hair in the filmy half light from deep unexplored pools.
I have become the shipwreck of your soul,
And those are pearls in my eyes.

Good night, sweet ladies.
Good night.
Good night.

Blueberries and Ash

I am hounded by your hands
my evil-throated man
the drumming of your fingers on my thighs
the beat of your breath in my ear
all madness

I have taken your unwillingness up in my mouth
rolled it over my tongue
swished it between my teeth
and spat it out again

you taste of blueberries and ash
remind me of my homeland
where the trees bent at my passing
the grass forming knots as I would go

you called me ice maiden
mad with the cold
you called me
the eternal virgin
and sent me on to arid pastures

you looped my hair over your fist
and held me there
mad eyes rolling, mad eyes
you stood on my hands
and tried to reach God

and I am throat
all calling and want
voice straining for Heaven
past your tilting mind
riding your last thought
to stars just above your head

body now my own
unfettered by your slipping grip
your bones under my heals
your neck at an impossible angle

you forever quiet
and me
with Sun in my mouth
rolling on eternal hills
in the Grace of the Ever Shining All

A Dim Wish

You have given me words and I have used them;
You have given me thoughts and I have twisted them;
You have touched me and in that moment I let it happen.

Your hands took my integrity
with the force of your fingers,
digging into my thighs
running your teeth down my spine.

I screamed and you smiled.
I crumpled under your weight and you giggled madly,
Madman...
Madness riddling your brain;
making your eyes little dark holes in your head.
Your smile is all crooked teeth,
and malicious intent;
You peer into my mouth with that look on your face
and I know I am lost.

Lost to your crippled heart;
When you pull against me, I bend,
I never wanted to
but in the moment I lose all choice--
All independent movement;
Suddenly puppet to your demented driving,
The mad giggling shrill in my ears.

You are poison reaching, poised intent;
No gentility only tearing.
Me, tearing.
A ripping in the event,
The time, me.
You are the year in reverse,
mad eyes rolling back in your head
as you drive your fingers deeper into me.
Ripper reaper nipper seeper--

You are the death of my dreams,
You are the death of my skin,
all teeth and fingers and material madness.
I hate you with all my aching,
my arching,
I hate you.

A dim wish fills my mind--

Your hand covers my mouth,
Fluttering,
and everything goes dark
in the shadow of your black intent;
Your darker plan.
And I am extinguished in the eyes of God.
Abandoned here,
Wrecked on your insane shore.
Wreckage all around me.

I drown in you,
Rippling in the light,
Grinding your teeth together,
Running your tongue over your rotting lips,
I am looped in the loops of your hair,
and know I am drowning there.
I hold my breath and sink.
The world goes dim-- dark,
I hear you laughing from far away,
I am gone,
and no one will ever search for me here.