Macabre

Troubled facade

When you wrap me in your cold dead arms
and tell me that I am the only one.
Then my dear I know that you are lying
When you holler my name,
in the street
whilst I stand by your side,
waiting for the rain to break.
Umbrella hanging sadly
down at my waist.
Here
I know you are not without scorn
As you tie my legs to a lamppost
brimming with desire and contempt
and bruise me
with the flat palm of your knife
like only you can.
Then I know you are weak
And in that instance,
at that moment
In the slight pause between night and day
I see you for the first time.
See who You really are.
See your ugly soul rebound off my being
and into your heart.
Desperately beating out the tone of the tune.
Drilling into your head
buried under plastic jars and paper plates.
Marvelling at sounds you have never heard
nor have wont to.
Stories of days gone by and feelings past
and the death of something true
someone true.
Yet all the while you sit silently
and play to the fire of the gun

My Cold Hearted Boyfriend

He lies beside me at night
As I write the words which sustain me
The noises he makes sometimes distracting
Causing me to look up from my work
Or my useless crap
(as he liked to call it)

Sometimes I move too sudden
And he presses his damp skin on mine
Forcing me to give him a push
To keep him at bay
A little love shove

Then I can carry on
Typing up my masterpiece
Immune to his judgemental silence
And vacant stare

Once I had writers block
Asked for help
Inspiration
Yet he only wanted to sleep
His raspy breath on my arm
Echoes of snuffling and snoring
Reverberating in my ears
Forcing my words to hide
My eyelid to twitch
My knuckles to crack

He doesn’t snore anymore
Though he still lingers
Like a bad smell

Inspired for Darkside Thursday

The Dead of the Night

It comes to me in the early hours

Hands outstretched, hungry for life

Yet all I can offer are dreams

 

Glaring at me with wicked eyes

Salivating at the thought

It may eat me yet

 

Devour the whole of me

Swallowed and digested

Until my fragments

Are no longer beings

 

Just a collection

Of flesh and splintered bones

Clumps of deterioration

 

Regurgitated

Settled

Disintegrating

 

Slivers of life that once were

Slowly fading to air

This is how I turn to dust