http://sincerelyjnoelle.wordpress.com/
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 4:22 AM UTC
I have heard your Name
all of my life,
sometimes through open palms,
sometimes through clenched fists.
I listened
until my prayers sounded
more like fear than worship,
I listened
until when I bowed my head
it looked as if I was flinching,
is this what You wanted for Your children?
And so I grew,
my tongue becoming a sponge
wringing out praises
that washed my face
but never cleansed my sins
because they were only words
and I have since learned
that You hear me in a language
my tongue was never fit to speak.
I was a fool
who believed You were her Psalms
sung over yesterday’s blasphemy,
who believed You were his Sunday’s best
covering last weeks adultery,
a fool who believed a Rosary
was nothing more than an accessory.
And so I grew, and gradually we stopped speaking
I filled the the silence with anything I could reach for
I filled my bed with different men
and knelt before them
for too many years
convincing myself they were searching for my soul
with their hands on my skin
but by morning those twisted sheets
only filled me with knots.
I filled my arms with junk
until my veins were swollen.
I followed my track marks
thinking they were leading me to heaven.
I was a hunter
whose hunger never stopped
until the day I shot myself down and
I sunk beneath my body.
I thought it was luck
that woke me up,
and I wondered where the hell You had been
where was my white light, my angel, my saving Grace?
And so I grew, seeing my angel came
through the body of a man
who pounded on my chest
and breathed his life into me
until my lungs opened like the gates of Heaven
and he said I let out a noise that sounded like a demon
but I started to have the feeling it was Mercy.
And so I grew, walking down a different Road
crying how there were too many cracks on this path
never realizing it was Your bones
that I felt breaking beneath me
and when my feet were dragging
that was just me fighting to walk on my own
when You refused to stop carrying me.
And so I grew, not knowing Your Name
but crying out for You
in language not fit for this world.
Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 3:16 AM UTC
That night
is stuck in my skin
like the drunk tattoo
a hangover wakes up to.
The more time that passes,
the more it sinks in.
The night I denied being a woman
was the night you insisted on being a man.
I laid beneath your body,
a sleeping child
with limp limbs
and a body no longer mine.
That night, I wished I was no body
but I was less than that
I was your body.
The silence rested between us
like a gun
aimed at your gut.
Every bit of strength I had in my tongue
formed only one weak word,
No.
The word tore through me like a bullet,
leaving shrapnel in my lungs.
I waited for you to collapse
into the three am darkness,
to fall to the floor
a defeated man.
But your hips moved
as if my lips had not,
and you pinned me to the floor boards
like those butterflies I killed
in biology class.
I know how sick I felt
when I plucked their frail bodies
from the noxious mason jars
and pinned them to some cardboard
like cheap decorations
that never lived at all.
I wonder if you felt sick too.
I know your hands
have the potential to hold
but I only felt them
in purple palm prints
bruised across my skin.
I know that night
the ***** blinded you
but I thought
maybe you would read my tears like braille
and feel fear move beneath your fingers,
my fear, my hideous fear.
But you didn’t,
you wouldn’t feel it.
That morning you awoke
with a convenient case of amnesia
and you didn’t,
you wouldn’t remember
but I can’t,
I won’t forget
and I hate you for that.
I hate the way you feel in my flesh.
I hate the way you look in my head
I hate the way I look now too.
Time has passed since that,
this has set in
and the only thing I hate more
than waking up to you that morning
is me
for letting you in.
©Jenna Allie
Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 2:45 AM UTC
A dying girl
hung her head over
a carpet covered in
crumpled clothes
hastily stripped off and
tossed aside.
Her bed sheets once held
tourniquets and flecks of
splattered blood
that dawn turned to Braille
spelling slow defeat
beneath her bruising skin.
Nine months passed since then.
Those ties cut,
new blood flowed freely through
her ravaged veins.
She knelt beside her bed,
the mattress cloaked in clean sheets.
She shaved away her tangled hair
as if to free the knots from her stomach,
to free from her skull
the ache, the craze,
the hushed torment of
loving ******
She sliced and slipped
and nicked and bled
to crack her shell of a body until
a soul slipped out
or anything remotely human
but nothing ever did.
She caught herself
moving in a mirror,
body bags beneath her eyes,
a ghostly girl
a stolen soul
a blank mask
a hood of bone.
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 12:52 AM UTC
A dying girl
hung her heavy head
over a carpet
aged to smoker's gray.
She collapsed on a floor
covered in crumpled clothes,
stripped off and
tossed aside.
She knelt beside
a bed that once held
goodnight kisses and
rosy morning cheeks,
now full of tears that
dawn turned to braille,
spelling slow defeat
beneath mourning fingers.
Pulling her curly hair
taut in tired fists,
she freed every bit
swiftly from her scalp and
nicked her tender skin with
tiny rusted blades until
there was nothing left
but raw flesh.
She caught a thief
moving in the mirror
with body bags
beneath her eyes:
a ghostly girl,
a stolen soul,
a blank mask,
a hood of bone.
Oct 12, 2012
Oct 12, 2012 at 12:07 AM UTC
I am a murderer.
Clenching my fists,
I made a bed
And killed myself in it.
Sheets that once held goodnight kisses
And rosy morning cheeks
Fell victim to restless legs,
Twisted in agony.
I am a hunter.
Following my own track marks,
I shot myself down.
I kissed each vein
With the tongue of a syringe
And purged its belly
Until a brown river
Emptied into my blood.
I am a dying woman.
Hanging my heavy head
Over crumpled green towel,
I collapsed on a carpet covered in clothes
That were hastily stripped off and tossed aside.
I knelt amongst the tattered tees
And the grass stained denim
That reeked of slow defeat.
I am a prisoner.
Pulling my curly hair
Taut in tired fists,
I freed every bit from my scalp.
Running blades across my skull,
I nicked my tender skin
Like dancing through a rose garden
Until there was nothing left but raw flesh.
I am a thief.
Staring at a stranger’s reflection,
I saw body bags beneath her eyes
And lids that closed like coffins.
A ghostly girl,
A stolen soul,
A blank mask,
A hood of bone.
©Jenna Allie
Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 12:22 AM UTC
I am a hummingbird
with one hundred pounds wings
And I sing, oh i sing!
Much like a caged bird
Within my own ribs
my own bones!
Oh, a bitter taste
in the depths of my throat
With a key
Held to my thin wrists
It fits, oh it fits!
As I paint the walls red
I hum that old Johnny Cash Song
Stuck in my head
Like a splinter
Like litter
Baby, I don’t feel a thing
Nothing past the sting
I am a hummingbird
With one hundred pound wings
My heart breaks, oh it breaks!
With any slow in pace
It begs for the fast lane
Begs for something more
Than this tune and this taste
—See my scars?
Beauty marks
Like the stars!
Upon the sky
The World’s flesh
Burned and seared
And waiting to die!
But aren’t we all
just marked by dying things?
We are all born
Of dying things!
From Adam to the stars
The sky’s scars
Or his beauty mark
Born with death
In the folds of our flesh
Born with shame
In the folds of our brains
But with this key
I open the door
A red door, red door!
As red as my knees
As they kiss the floor
And beg
Oh my Lord, set me free
just set me free!
I am a hummingbird
With one hundred pound wings
My heart breaks for speed, I know
But living in the fast lane
Will only make you slow
© Jenna Allie 4/21/2011
Apr 21, 2011
Apr 21, 2011 at 10:09 AM UTC
little lights, flame flickers
pale skinned lip lickers
red blood, warm flood
gold crown, made of mud
heart rippers, teeth gritters
white knuckled blood givers
i am a fist clenching, teeth wrenching
ear splitting, muscle tensing
junkyard liver, death giver
pale skinned lip licker
Dec 25, 2010
Dec 25, 2010 at 3:41 PM UTC
how do i know
if this touch is even true?
we're all locked inside
an imaginary zoo
i try to break free
try to shatter these chains
but they send me far a way
claimed clinically insane
but you have to sleep to wake
i tell them of this fact
but all they do is stitch my wrists
and send me right on back
Dec 21, 2010
Dec 21, 2010 at 6:06 PM UTC
how do i know
if this touch is even true?
we're all locked inside
an imaginary zoo
i try to break free
try to shatter these chains
but they send me far a way
claimed clinically insane
but you have to sleep to wake
i tell them of this fact
but all they do is stitch my wrists
and send me right on back
Dec 21, 2010
Dec 21, 2010 at 5:59 PM UTC