Locked Doors
I was a small child, shivering in the cold of the chilly workshop. In those days I was quick and clever, but not old enough to understand the games my Daddy played. Now, looking back, I think his favourite part Was waiting there, lips curled as if to mock; watching despair cast hooks into my heart when I found the door was closed and locked. My stocism was a point of pride amidst the shame. The thought of it sustains me even now: “At least I never cried.” The pain is done now, but one thing remains: Just the locked door, ever representing hopes dashed, dreams smashed, no happy...
Read MoreIn Dreams
The cast of my dreams change their skins to fool me Walkng, talking, living as the borrowed heads upon their shoulders but I scratch the surface and find a different animal beneath dreaming I’m betraying you now with another man but the other man is not the other man and you are not you here I am, reliving a past betrayal and here you are hurting me with words, with fists but you are that older lover who took such delight in my flesh that he could not bear but rip it and always daddy returns in different disguise hiding inside my mother, my sister he’s inside me - I cannot breathe...
Read MoreRevenge
I’ve sought for years to find the perfect way - I can’t rely on karma, or on law. A civil suit would probably cost me more. I know there is a way to make you pay. And money wouldn’t take away my pain, Publicity would probably be fleeting. I could arrange to have you take a beating; But you would not be covered with the shame. I’ll bide my time and let my anger grow. In darkness I will raise the poisoned crop. In time I’ll give you every bitter drop - I hate you and I’ll never let you go. I’ll make you taste my every hurt and fear. My voice a ghost to...
Read MoreThe Aftermath
The aftermath is a house made of ice Where you can see in, but I can’t get out. I stay in the middle of rooms. I sleep on the rug. I don’t bother beating the walls any more. My hands blister on the frozen blocks. The aftermath is a rose made of blood Which I wear on my jacket every day. The copper scent sickens me. I try to put my identity there. My hands come away guilty. Bloodied, full of shame. The aftermath is a bed made of wire On which I have said goodnight to sleep. Rest is a balancing act. I turn until the wire binds me. I try to take my lover’s hand. My fingers...
Read MoreHaunt
Haunt -v. visit a place regularly, frequent or be persistently in a place, be persistently in the mind of. -n a place frequented by a person, a place frequented by animals for food and drink, a feeding place. (The Concise Oxford Dictionary) When ghosts exist too long, they walk unquiet. Phantasms colonise my mind to taunt. Too many ghosts can cause a spirits’ riot: far better yet to let them out than haunt me with their endless games and chatter. Yet each falls quiet as the time to exorcise draws closer, to persuade me that they’ve left. But they live on in yet another guise. Thus Pain...
Read MoreAcid Reign
The girl lies in bed and the taste of fear lingers on her tongue. The scent of blood attends her and she trembles in the absence of the sun. She clenches every muscle as she waits for the assault to begin. She’s wrapped up in the blankets but it’s no use ‘cause it’s here inside her skin. As the darkness closes in, fifteen years are slowly stripped away; She’s falling back through time, head over heels, day by day. Like a poisonous plant under an acid rain, The feeling grows in her again and again. The rage rises inside her to block out the pain. But she bows her head as she feels...
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