the door slams shut

i hear the sound of mommy and daddy yelling.

cursing. i hear mommy screaming daddies name.

silence

i hear the quiet footsteps, boots dragging across the carpet floor.

"anabelle" daddy yelled.

i hushed, wanting to cry.

what happened to mommy, i wondered.

i heard the pound on the door

"anabelle LET ME IN" this always happened.

i thought i was daddies little girl.

he was intoxicated, the known smell entered my nose.

he sweared multiple times, tears rushing down my cheeks.

i heard the sound of sirens in the distance.

"come out with your hands up, paul!"

daddies name was called.

he banged harder on the closet door, until it finally fell to pieces.

"anabelle!" he screamed angrily in my face.

the police was right behind him, and i didn't say a single word.

"let her go" and i was dropped like a penny.

i saw my mommy on the floor like a rag doll.

battered and bruised, but beautiful.

but now, she was gone.

xii.

big hips; small hips and long, skinny legs
people and the worlds inside them
pointing at the screen
which movie should we watch?

the last time i watched movie alone
was divergent
it was an insane ride
and my parents picked me up
knowing i had lost a thing
but they didn't ask
and i didn't tell
i was ***** by poetry

-- i am holy
just like lilith, eve, and mary --

watch out i am trying to heal
so what if i am romanticizing
illness! i am not ill
enough
to lose

my eyes see clear
anabelle, tickets sold out
the people; in hijab, in short skirt
in high heels and slippers
their faces
i see them clear

it looks the same like that friday
just feels different
it has been months
a relatively insane ride
so cathartic

my land may well be a big cathedral
or some sweet mosque
with all the gods
praying to each other
with cold soup in their tongue
and stale milk they offer

to the homeless like us, you know
home isn't really the walls and roof
that keep you from rain and sundust
home is the rain and dust and your sunburned hands and the acnes on your face and
the wounds on your knees
you got when you were learning
to bike

I saw her in the bushes,
A fairy, golden and giggling at me,
She whispered 'follow me',
'I have a secret world to show you you see',

We walked to a secret oak,
I was mesmerised everytime she spoke,
We journeyed down the path,
And found the fairies hiding place,
There was about twenty, glowing and full of grace.
Now you've seen us you can never leave,
For others wouldn't believe.
'My name's Anabelle and this is Steve'. :)
The two fairies danced in celebration,
'Welcome to our world.'

I slither under flesh like cool breezes under sheets
goosebumps haunt skin blanketed by the shadow of a serpent
all forked tongues and vampiric teeth
2. Sultry is Madame Night when she pulls her veil over her brow
musky perfume is spellbinding and perverse
boys will play rough under the full moon tonight
3. His irises swell and swim when the stars return his gaze
head back in a pantomime of defeat
there is an abyss surging within his body
the threat of overflow is sensual
4. Ghoulish girls adorned in faux fur and red lipstick are on the prowl
cemeteries and Poe are all they know of romance
Anabelle Lee's young orphan lies weeping

During nights where no man dare to go...

Lies a path that leads to Woe...

A print of limbs in naked snow,

From where did once a red river flow.


Ever wandering, did she so fastly...

Away from places that are so ghastly..

Beyond the reach of boney fingers.

Where the evil eye no longer lingers.


Her tell-tale heart all filled with fright

In a place deprived from light...

Her veins like nitre by dreaded cold.

Her life is thrown into the fold.


Winter gives her final kiss

a farewell for now, for 't is

Death that softly whispers of love.

Heavens cry above

and hell shrieks down below


Her broken body laid bare, bleeding in the dreadful snow.


To suffer the eye no longer, no longer,

Made her deadly desire that much stronger.

Here Anabelle lies, depraved of breath..

Suckling from the breast of Mother Death...

Her corpse now bows so very brave,

towards the symphonies that come forth

from her grave.