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absinthe Jun 2016
a son of adam
disguised as satan
was the wise man
who once advised me
when i asked him
i'm frightened, see,
i see demons nightly
i'm so scared
of the monsters when
they come to haunt me.
aren't you relating to
what you hear from me?
is there a god above us, absinthe?
yes
is he who made the sun, and
does he protect believers?
yes
so when the daytime leaves us
does he abandon children
because his sun is sleeping?
no

but what about us daughters,
Father
because the sun seems partial
to the Sons of Adam
absinthe Jun 2016
i have only
one lonely
component
of moments
altogether, they make the misnomer
we all **** every morning,
every time we call it
time

i’m in bed, thinking
of my child--
past,
my mistress--
future,
and my husband--
present.

do i manifest it
in the most innocent victims
in my kin, keeping
their necks bent backwards,
twisted
twenty-four, seven
for no reason other
than my (sub?)conscious,
its viciousness i keep
feeding, nursing it
with ****** breastmilk
   i keep reminiscing and reliving
   my initiation moments
   ago, when she forced my transition
   from visions of halos
   visible in the distance
   to a new life witnessed
   from a higher elevation measured
   in mere feet, in measly inches
   all its symptoms
   hosting the syndrome
   we selfishly love scapegoating
   as the capital of sweden

or do i invest it in secret
in a potential haven
its instantaneous
gratification
purposely overlooking
my infernal husband
   i see him, vivid
   his eyes gleaming, livid
   while he's smiling, living
   in pure bliss, the image
   of him standing
   in the background
   oxymoronically
   observing
   with a rigid south
   that defies physics
   and hails northbound
   like my eyes when they widen
   allowing my peripheries
   to admit the bigger picture
   and finally i get it

or do i intertwine
his fingers with mine
give in and follow through
with vows
so
black
i had to contrast them with white
   by draping
   over my shoulders what i'd only seen before when
   time, my fashionably late ******
   snuck into my room and ravaged innocence
   it was mariana trench grim
   even the moon couldn't take it
   watching her stab
   the white sheets,
   in blackness
   hearing my eerie screams
   as my innards leave me
   and suddenly i embrace
   the potent beauty of a venomous snake
   the gleaming power that hate plagues
   so together we'd watch them bleed red
   sitting. but that was moments past
   now i carry the horrid legacy
   of mastered maleficence
   how to manipulate it
   beneath a veil that hates evil
   and it still tempts me...

that's why i did it
wore white and feigned interest
to distract the morbid being
hiding deep within, rotting, festering
i put it all together when i broke
at the hands of a monster
who created a fraternal clone
by instigating an innocent sadist
a different species
i can drain us all, together
in a brutal whirlwind
of failing, of indecision

if only
the moon had made it
if only the sun had listened
and rescued me
instead of insisting
that shining on time
was out of style
but its prerequisite
was no compromise
instead it trapped me
in a sinister dungeon  
because taking orders
from a subordinate
is a demeaning price
higher than
the cheap little girl
bleeding, crying
she carries no significance
she's falling behind
just like the future
of an otherwise worthy existence
just like my mistress --
future
my husband--
present
and my child --
   passed
now
nothing
matters.
it's only
a matter
of time
until we all die

after all,
we had it
all, stolen
or otherwise
yet instead,
we spent
our whole lives
torturing each other
and killing time.

- end
absinthe Jun 2016
i ran for days
broke my back along the way
twisted my neck
became spineless
but i don't care

i let my mind race
and felt my nerves break
now they keep me awake
but i don't care

i asked you to be my backbone
i hate you for walking away
i need my back brace
now i have no support

then i thought about my waist
and the aches
and the resilient body
holding my head high

if only i knew
how to be my own backbone
like the spine that holds me
and lets me walk
and supports me

maybe then
i would care

about me

- end
absinthe Jun 2016
you ****** me up.
you broke my bones.
i helped you.
i let them be.
i didn't breathe a word to a
single
soul.

i don't know why.
only eight years
old.

sure, i've grown
anatomically
but that's all.

you'd be so proud of me--
how i carry your legacy.  
but it's not you
who ***** me up

any
more.
absinthe May 2016
shelter from—not host of
hostile words
and shattered hearts
absinthe Apr 2016
how
can i hate him
when he can't fathom the thought
of anyone
doing otherwise
to begin with
absinthe Apr 2016
admitting weakness is true strength.
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