my mind keeps getting snagged,

catching on these fictions,

concoctions –

I see her
in the night
tearing into the undressed hind of the ram
like a fresh-gouged slice of honeydew melon

the pulp of his flesh red,
trickling off the slant of her lips

I think I'd offer her the cimeter
and use of the free oven

but I'm not sure it's the meal she's after

and there she is

widows-thrill
or devil's backbone,
some sort of specimen
hog-tied to the sediment

combs her hand
with nails bit past the quick
through her hair
til she thinks there's not one incongruent strand

dragging her feet
down the primrose path
off on the hard way into heaven

I know I'm good for something
I just haven't found it yet

she must be in such pain
I always think
I always, always think

but still her ire gets the best of me

her pain is not quiet, not to me;

it's thrashing, kicking
screaming, crying, willing
to wring the garrote
of her small hands
around my neck

it's her quivering lip
spilling forth short "I'm sorry's" and
calling for my embrace
and then her small frame turning
to drub on the same wounds again,

again,
again
again, again
again again again again—

the flame's rising
and rising,
and I'm quick to rush in!
but I'm too small,
like spit on the fire

it's too hard,
it's too hard,
it's too hard

and even more I ruin my size

tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow
tomorrow, tomorrow

there is always tomorrow

like I'll wake up
with my wounds gone

I crawl into my head
you make the ugliest comments
there goes my self-esteem

you pull on my strings
left leg
twist my arms
you make me fall over and over again

are you better than me
I'm a puppet

tell me everything
I don't want to hear

I'll walk backwards

you're controlling

I'm fighting off
pulling on these strings

there goes my last bit of sanity
spiraling down into the darkness

you can pull my limbs apart
you can pick at my skin

doesn't change
your transparency

it's all your fault

It is morning time
The air feels crisp
Time to tidy up
There's so much to do
The baby squalls,
Alerted of the noise of the vacuum cleaner,
He needs some attention
At last,
Things can wait
These are the glory days
as they say
"Babies don't keep"
and children don't stay little for long

You reassured my decision
I made firmly and wisely
to not let you in
A monster you are
the worst kind
you'll perish with that attitude
of scorn, loath and hate
You think you're being a hero
as you take the breath of innocent souls away
You walk in darkness
I held onto the delusion
that you weren't the demon
you could be grace
But as the time on the clock
rotates in a slow ticking circle
I see that you sir are my biggest hurdle
Getting the thoughts of you out
that are flooding my mind
you are the master of erasing time
I ponder
I sit
I grieve
I once let the scare tactics you had
control me
but with time and fate
I'm afraid to say
with a bit of Gods grace
you'll never see the day

I like to talk about the moon
he's somewhere behind the thick clouds

If only I was a cloud
somewhere in his sky

can't you see me
I can make it rain down

I can make the wind talk
can't you hear it

I wear the night
swallow the daylight

lead the way
the moon is rising

a billion girls love him
a billion boys stare

the moon keeps to himself