she, with her cramping hand,
holds a cracked mask close to her face
and does nothing but cry beneath
*
he preaches that he needs to teach me lessons
and runs around the house naked
and I observe his body from imprisonment
and fall into the abyss of my origins
*
a kitchen towel, ever-wet, threatens me with silence
and monotony and repressed adjectives and confessions
all curdling in her entrails, she’s had enough
and I understand that my face needs to evaporate
dig itself into the marmoreal floor
and only then come back out
when she’s done falling apart
*
women stand in a shower mausoleum
water hammers itself into their skulls
their crushing casual thoughts of self-betrayal
a stampede on their heavy faces
their hair, spider legs, falling off their thighs and hips
into the drain, getting stuck in an unfathomable pattern
confronting their overfilled comatose gazes
*
she did to her doll
what she couldn’t do to herself
and she was pleased that destruction was an act of creation
*
I listen to the dismantlement of my name in rotten mouths
and lose respect left and right
authority figures salivate and beg wordlessly
and they stuff my throat with words that are not mine
*
I am familiar with the colours of death
I touched what lay rigid
I kissed what grew colder and harder
my body against death
leaves behind the false promise of warmth
*
his cracked bones, innumerable, splintered,
self-erased, morning sun, golden boy, he won’t come back,
he stormed down into an abyss that looked too appealing
to be so very revolting, to me
*
the abyss broke his body
but he felt cradled for the first time, perhaps
*
and sometimes, still, when I’m trying to fall asleep
your body jumps right into me
and I feel death all over me
and your name reappears in my mouth, in my mouth
as if I hadn’t already embodied your discarded self
Lovely blog! Thanks for sharing!
Feel free to read some of my blogs 🙂
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Thank you very much for your kind words.
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