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1.9k · Jan 2012
Regrets like Seizures
Alison MacNeil Jan 2012
Regrets like seizures wake me
Upon me, upon me, dawn
There is a noose in the sheets
Bars on the door, locked
Forgotten but the dream
Rain outside, an imposter
Leaves me here, dawn
Waiting for you, slowly
Surely up my leg, it winds
Closer to my limbs, my fluid
MY THROAT, dawn
Closes in short
Severed, charred hot spasms
BREATHE
I haven’t slept for weeks
And the regrets like seizures
Burn me Choke me Wake me
Wake me
1.7k · Mar 2012
Cloves and Cinnamon
Alison MacNeil Mar 2012
I take my shoes off at your door.
It is Christmas eve.
The walls are paper thin, and the lantern
Burns in the corner.
Silently.
The tea is bright and woody.
Cloves and cinnamon.
It seems you are a woman,
although so wan and thin
You have been so tired this year
The wind is coming in.
Regretfully.
I put my shoes back on,
and close you back with kin.
1.1k · Nov 2011
Your Black
Alison MacNeil Nov 2011
In her incessant memory,
Your times were black;
Always an addition
to the white smile
Grating across her lips.

It hung from your shoulders
like the curtains.

Always a separation
from an ardent breast
Forcing femininity closer.

Your clothes were black
Her blood, cold and purple;
Drying and fading in
the back of your head.

She hides among the folds;
You see only traces of her white-
Seeing her in parts.

The times were always black;
Leveling against your warm lips,
Leveling to the girlish
touch

But always in control.

The curtains just barely move, but
in time with her breath;
steaming over the window.

And only the color remains;
One thousand shades of black
Rotting in your attic, open
only to theives.

She has stolen only what she needs,
And she wears it out;

Modeling a string of your
cloudy pearls-
Lusterless against her
gleaming white skin.

She knows you will see her
And she'll break your black
all over a burning sun.
977 · Nov 2011
Blue
Alison MacNeil Nov 2011
Infrared.
Casting shadows
in the alley
Which was once our home.
Our palace.
Our place of worship, that now,
Only the devil speaks of
And the weak
We carry ourselves high now
Mighty.

Sadly, our place dies.
Elevated and sacred.
But brings anew, a sea-bed of growth
And a hyacinth of hopeful hue
To think,
All this time you knew.
That I would begin again
Fresh.
Spring and fairy-like against
the darkness of blue
886 · Jan 2012
Tools
Alison MacNeil Jan 2012
Your hands, Incisors
Your lips, like Pliers
Penetrate, Golden
Guiltless

You left me on fire
PUSH-admire
I will get over it.

Turn over...tired.
Faulty wire.
Look at you...just look at you.
843 · Jan 2012
Pendant
Alison MacNeil Jan 2012
This pen feels like a cut
a sore, a bleeding pendant
On my finger
Scraping, pulling
Threads of cells
microscopic
bubbling in small drops
surface-tension
holds it close
Gauze and mesh
it becomes a unified burn
A new home,
a new ****,
Your an absence is unmissed
by the healing wound.
766 · Nov 2011
Rumor
Alison MacNeil Nov 2011
Language lives in the dark
Words on my tongue
stories of the streets
The alleys undone

Voices leak in the corners
Conversations resume
Torn between gaslights
Thick as blood, neon, bone

Steam echos the ghost
Fire. Moonlight. Escapes

I've placed Rumor to bed
as Night fights to give birth.
710 · Jan 2012
Vials
Alison MacNeil Jan 2012
Bottles
tiny glass enemies
filled with bitter fear

Trinkets and Bottles
capped and swollen to
never remove me

Vials of lovers
Locked in bitter
Madness.

Black in clear cages,
Stand my armies of poison
Their sapphire skins shine
Their blue bullets of pain

Bottles,
Shelved liquid contempt,
reflecting back shards

Pierces-with such
captured Hell.
Deceiving smiles.

With frost-bite breathe
hold for me, tiny
vials full, the Enemy.
708 · Feb 2012
The Rain
Alison MacNeil Feb 2012
Ozone hangs from the trees;
The ground is full of moisture.
Mist gathers in your hair; You
are beautiful in this weather. Your
Violet eyes, break like hearts, reflecting
the pale Cream sun; Vanishing completely-
abruptly, with cloud cover.
I forgive you for all that is done,
Making this morning, like
something I've won.
Your palms are sweaty
Pink returns to your cheeks
Someone's been talking about the
rain we've seen.
706 · Jan 2012
Pitch
Alison MacNeil Jan 2012
Your paleness is Pitch
against Winter's bite
it's all over your Skin
and burns with Light
This shallow Grave
will hold you tight
but cheer up my Love,
it's just for the Night.
625 · Nov 2011
The Arson Knife
Alison MacNeil Nov 2011
Set fire to the streets
feel your flesh stick to the tar
The cramp in my tongue
rises to stable ground
and I'm comfortable with
the flame
Your body covers the road
a million times over
and the tires
move back and forth
through the rain
I can't stop to think
or recognize who you are
You're just the pain
and the razor
and the *****
holding up the frame
I light up abrasions on
your skin
Tracing selfish wounds
attached to your heart
Bleed through my teeth
and I'll eat in the shadows
of the highway
619 · Jan 2012
Resuscitate
Alison MacNeil Jan 2012
Tranquilize my heart with
Soft Shocking
I'm the best you'll ever have.
Resuscitate, push.
Don't miss me. I've had enough.
586 · Jan 2012
Snow
Alison MacNeil Jan 2012
The snow is beautiful out tonight,
i say from inside the black room
There is a candle on the floor.
Dancing skeletons across the sky, you say.
Today is January 14th. Your voice flickers the candle.
You alter my light.
Shadows move.

You're playing with the wax. Drip drip drip.
What time is it?
I don't know girl, it doesn't matter.
We all forget in time, you say.
You smile at my back.
I am facing the wall.
I don't take the time from anyone.

You stand up.
Stop playing with those things!
And I put the shadows back in the drawer.

I ask, tell me about the black room?
You tell me it's black.
Is the snow still beautiful out tonight?
You're laying down again.
The shadows are gone.
Dancing skeletons across the sky, you laugh.
Yes.

Hours pass. What day is it? you ask me.
We all forget in time, I reply. You laugh again.

Knock knock.
Someone is at the door.
Get up and get it.
You're still playing with the wax.

But there are no doors in the black room, I say.
You blow out the candle. I open
the drawer. There are no windows either.

We spent some time throwing
shadows on the wall.
582 · Jan 2012
Little girl
Alison MacNeil Jan 2012
The little girl came to me, with
fever in her eyes. She laid her
sweaty palm on my breast.
"Let me drink from you", she whispered.
Her hollow eyes hurting.
Sick, but effervescent, she
cupped her parched lips, and from me
took a drink.

For hours, she laid herself out in my
lap. "Can I call you mother?", she asked.

I looked at her and smiled. I said nothing.
I think she knew me. I think she understood.

I sat with my arms wrapped around her innocence.
Her fever subsided and she stained my dress
with her sweat, leaving me
marked and tattooed, in a mystery of motherhood

And then, she packed up her bags and left.
541 · Jan 2012
Slow
Alison MacNeil Jan 2012
I see your walk, through
my kohl eyes.
Your mirrored approach uninvited.
Sauntering slow.
Stop.
I restrain myself from running.
Stay cool.
It's just a beautiful girl.
508 · Jan 2012
The Last Time
Alison MacNeil Jan 2012
The sun on my face
You say it's like the beach
The water hits our back.
You cover me
with a paint covered sweatshirt,
and you care that I'm cold.
I nap in your arms.
I told you that you were my little boy
And I would take care of you,
Maybe for the last time.
But that was the plan,
We shook on it; the bed.
Unusual, that light from your window
Offered more cloak than the night.

— The End —