Trust is a tricky creature.
It slithers its way
into our hearts, our souls.
It coils itself into the darkest chamber
inside us and calls it home.
It stretches and makes itself
comfortable until it
winds itself around our lungs,
constricting all breath,
all reason,
all sense.
And then it pierces
our most vital *****,
silencing its drumming and
injecting a poison that
swims through our veins,
paralyzing us
from the heart down.

-bes-

the bath water was warm when i got in
i still couldn’t see anything but i felt the nurse holding my arm too tight

i couldn’t talk but i knew
that this is the best it can be

god didn’t put me on a short leash

i did

when a man puts a gun in his mouth
the last thing he’s thinking about is being an invalid

i can’t remember how long it has been
but the water is cold now

lulling comfort of uninterrupted sleep subsides
replaced with an involuntary state of sedation
the emergence of an all too familiar presence
paralyzed by the force of a lingering sensation
choking internalized fear
timeless inaudible cries for help
unknown visitor condemning you to an everlasting silence
physical horror encroached the night
a lone passenger aboard an eternal voyage
bound for relief from this crippling fear of uncontrollable stillness
remaining prisoner to this petrified state
concrete walls of stirring madness
hallucinations of strange alien formations
faceless entities strike infinite fear
in the core foundation of sleep tonight.

I’m afraid to close my eyes
literally close my eyes
when the sleep creeps in I feel it
like a clash within my body
my eyes are dry and aching
pleading for the life to stay behind them
my spine is sown to the floor
and I kick it with the heel of my boot
you see there’s this demon
that lives in the roof of my mind
and when I allow him
he comes down
and knocks me out
and while I’m down and out he has his way
with my mind
and once I’m completely submerged
is when he comes
the lightless Agares
he stands in the doorway
slithers over to my Abaddon
and I am lifted

Zoe hangs back,

My home-time mayhem
with half a head of hair,
pink neon flashing up her cherry studded arms.

My cufflinks snag and shake,
trying to make her see,
trying to make her see something.

O' Succubus,
               weighing me down in my slumber
                                                   Keep me still till the morning
                                                                ­                    your embrace is all I need.

i fear every night,
that the memory of you,
would enter my room
and sit beside my sleeping form.

except that i can't be able to move,
numb as you kiss me slowly.
drawing breath from my lungs,
i, glued in a helpless position.

and when you're done,
the tears streak my cheeks
at the sight of you
sliding away from me, walking up.

oh- i hate this beautiful nightmare
of having to watch you leave in the end.
but then again, this dream
is the only way to see you again.

and it's truly a shame,
how i could never run after you,
just like in real life,
paralyzed in place.

At 5 I was convinced I was
a flower
whose vocation was imitating
their final hysterical
wail
once Winter awoke from its
anorexia.

I pleaded my case with
a botanist
whose seamstress wife consented to stitch
a tutu of Kadupul
flowers,
like a fairy godmother warning of their death at
dawn.

At 16 I finally danced
their goodbye,
petals whisked off as if molted
layers of skin
and only when at the end I stood naked
did the concept of death have
definition.