Do you see them?
They see you.
Do you hear them?
They hear you.

Yes, you see them
Out of the corner of your eye
Yes, you hear them
During the silence of a ticking clock.

You'd rather not see or hear them
You'd rather they sleep a quiet slumber
You'd rather they didn't talk to you
You'd rather the professionals were right, you're mad

But, you and they know otherwise
They are only seen and heard by you
To others they elicit that "someone's just walked over my grave feeling
Like children at play their cruelty knows no bounds.

I stubbed a toe today
It brought back unwanted memories
Intense, unguarded, pain shot through me
Like a lightening bolt
A bolt from the blue.

Unpleasant sensory and emotional experience
Transferred themselves to a stubbed toe.
I withdrew my toe
I withdrew myself
I boxed up the pain again.

My feelings of hate border on revulsion
Repulsion bordering on abhorrence,
Course through my veins
My blood is thick with ill will
Sociopathic thoughts fire my personal hatred
Hate is more powerful than love
Love hurts hate kills.

Reflecting on life, on becoming a wife
Constraints of a marriage
That will end in a carriage
And me in the back boxed in
Awaiting the ground all damp and brown
A coffin with flowers atop
Flowers not in the ground growing,
But, dying and withering along with the cadaver
Already dead, already going off.

Do you think of the body in the box?
Do you reflect on a life that is lost?
Or do you just turn up on the day
Stare at the display, and know sooner than you think
It'll be you in a box, full of stink?

My hand became yours in marriage
My mind and soul remained mine

Your family should have become mine
My family became yours

Was it that you were the first born?
First born son

I was also a first born
First born daughter

Your mother's talons had dug in deep
Not in you but me

Every look she gave
Every snide remark

I tried nice, I tried too hard
I showed my talons, and my talons were sharper

I cut deep, like a bird of prey
After all mother in law, remember

Only the bride wears white
And a man is a son until he meets his wife.

I'm sleeping, dreaming, suffering sensory deprivation
Inhibited, relaxed, circadian rhythms coursing through
REM, renewing cells, awaiting the terror of the night.

I wake, here you come, slowly, announcing your presence
Until you stand over me
I cannot move, immobile

I cannot scream, mute
I cannot fight, struggle or defend
I feel you, looming above me

Thrashing will only alert you to my knowing of you
I calm my breathing, relax my posture, think of the coming sun
Advertising my lie that I know you are here.

You lean forward I smell your foul, fecund hot breath
Your infertile want of me by you, but I want him
You are not him

Slowly, you pull the sheet down
I remain still,knowing that you do not exist
A memory of long ago, of my helplessness

He, is asleep beside me unaware of you
Of your torment night after night
I want him to turn in his sleep

To face me, take me into a lover's knot
Show you my tormentor that you failed
Failed when I was 18, and will fail now I'm 39

But, he sleeps the sleep of the innocent
You keep trying, night after long night
And, I will keep eluding you.

Murdered, disappeared, lost
What would be the cost if I just ceased to exist?

Did I cure the common cold?
Did I succumb to becoming old?

The answer would be no, but this you already know.
The cost would be that I'd lost you.

Paper people crackling and folding
Under life's pressure
Blank pages, empty paper void of purpose
Paper flowers, swans, trees and cranes
Craning to find a crease that fits them
Brittle dry leaves waiting to be made into a purpose
Feint margins replace the wrinkles of a face
Origami organisms awaiting nimble fingers
To form features, emotions, life, purpose
Like a Samurai sword, the paper has been folded many times
Yet now blunted, pulped, set alight by a match, reduced to ash.