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 Nov 2013 Henry Bandini
Abeille
Oops
 Nov 2013 Henry Bandini
Abeille
I woke in a haze
I noticed how strange you were
No more gin for me

That evening I tried
To act like I didn't mind
We watched a movie

BUT

I hardly know you
I can't be your ******* friend
I hate what happened

You surely recall,
Better than I, what we did
And that’s just not fair

Just leave me alone
Nighttime
I’m staring through the eyes of a monster
No control
His movements are not mine as he stalks
A victim
She stands there unaware of his presence
Too silent
He’s upon her without a word as I try to scream
Bludgeoned
Brown carpet turns black as she quickly becomes nothing
But a stain
I scream in silence again, helpless as he reveals her form
My mother
Dead from hand and hammer, I want to cry but I don’t own these eyes

He knows I watch because he wants me to see
He’s silent because he knows I’m listening
He acts because he wants me to know

His purpose
To tear down my life until I’m buried in its rubble
Forgotten
In my grave that I must share with his conquests while
He’s building
A teetering tower of friendly familial blood and bone
I must watch
As he goes on to place to place, home to home
Slaughterhouses
They become. Walls repainted red, carpets blackened
My loved ones
Reduced to nothing in several silent sloppy seconds
I struggle
But I can do nothing; I’m a prisoner in the mind of another

I want to scream but these lips do not move
I want to run away but the feet move forward
I want to look away but he makes me see

Flash of light
I’m standing in the middle of the forest
Finally free
I see a light in the midst of the dark dank dead and run
A house
I recognize it but I cannot place it in my mind
Not alone
I look at the road behind me and see the monster I was
Terrified
I just stand; my eyes are liars for what is there cannot be
I’m paralyzed
Fear runs through my veins, chilling the blood and freezing the bone
Knife in hand
The monster moves forth, vicious visage illuminated
My god
It’s me; standing there coming forth like a storm on the plains

He looks like me but my eyes beg it not to be so
He moves like me if I could command my feet again
He sounds like me, I know, though he does not speak

I can move
I end up in his path but he is undeterred
I am nothing
In comparison, I am but an insect trying to stop a dragon
I am begging
Screaming at him, to leave her alone and take anyone else
Who is her?
I know but my muddled mind won’t share the knowledge
He keeps going
So I fight. Strike myself upon the jaw but it is but a pinprick on a god
Fighting
For the very soul of the woman I know not from the devil I have become
Uncaring
The monster just walks until I become an annoyance and he strikes back

His knife is buried in my gut up to the hilt
His eyes are dead, dark reflections of my own
His expression is empty, caring not for this easy victory

Nighttime
I lay bleeding against a tree watching a monster
Forgotten
Slipped from his mind like yesterday’s shopping list
A house
He enters and I hear her scream while I die defenseless
Who is her?
I try to remember but all that comes forth is a migraine, I feel
Bludgeoned
Like my mother at the hands of the monster. A tear falls
My loved ones
Lie in shambles as the final structures of my life crumble
My god
Why must I die here in a tomb of sorrow constructed by myself?

I awaken, terrified, feeling for a wound that never was
I stagger, terrified, to the bathroom, washing my face of the nightmare
I look up, terrified, for I do not see myself in the mirror
I only see that of the monster and I’m terrified
Because he is smiling
I will not fall
                     down
                             down
                                    down
                                           Into that deep, impounding darkness.
                                 That sinking, violent pain that once consumed me.
                                             I am no longer a shadow of myself,
                                        A broken, sallow creature, lingering alone
                                    In the ashen wasteland of its everlasting night.
                                                          ­     I am not weak,
                                                           ­  I am not broken,
                                                         I am not insignificant.
                                                  ­        I am infinite in Him.
I am from the towering oak and pine trees
That sway on the old forest’s edge,
Coyotes howling in the shadows
A haunting lamentation

I am from the creaky stairs and floorboards
At the house on Liberty Street,
From the ancient gas heater and its tendrils of flame
That never seemed to be quite hot enough

I am from the sound of my father’s voice
Heavy with sleep as he whispers to us
A late night bedtime story,
Scaring away the monsters under our beds

I am from Sunday mornings
Bursting with rays of golden light and
Filtering through glimmering church windows
Lingering on familiar faces

I am from ‘make good choices’
'Be a peacemaker’
‘You are greatness’ and
‘Oiaue!’

I am from the scent of Mom’s cookies
Chocolate chip and butterscotch
Melting away winters and
Warming cold hearts

I am from acrylic paint,
Graphite, ink and canvas
From smudged hands, stained clothes,
And a sketchbook full of scribblings

I am from the crisp chill of autumn
In the mountains of Vermont,
Staring into a sea of stars
As dazzling sparks float skyward in the distance

I am from the cool sea breeze
And the salty mist over the water
Waves crashing fiercely in the haze
Of Newport’s rocky shores

I am from the quiet peace
That can only come from the words
“I love you” and the warm embrace
That often follows

I am from endless words
Written with shaking, ink-stained hands
On crumpled bone white paper
Hoping to be good enough to keep

I am from weak muscles and fragile bones
From hesitant first steps and training wheels
From stubborn no’s and penitent yes’s
From late nights and shadowy eyes

I am from the past
I am from the present
I am from the trembling, changing
Pathway to my future

I am from this house
This family and
This home

— The End —