Specimen

Poetry

Between two walls
She is framed inside a cedar box
Like a rare insect specimen
Nailed on the edge of the hardboard
Under glass enclosure
For their close inspection
Are her eyes bright enough?
Is the head still intact?
Why is she positioned like a broken orchid?
Never right enough, never good enough
Constantly observed
Tired of having dried up wings
Disintegrated legs made of wooden sticks
Forcing more made up smiles, a trapped fly
Self-destroying parasite
Over-thinking, self-analyzing
Unnecessary introspection turns the faucet on
She chokes on salt-water, if nobody’s watching
When it’s appropriate

Bleeding Fingers

Poetry

My poor bleeding fingers
Emptiness lingers
Traces on the bed sheets
He found me, made me shiver
Torn into little pieces like a tissue
Used too many times- unsuitable for wiping tears
Falling apart

He was a demon, thirsty incubus
Succumbed to his sweet talk
Made me think the unthinkable
I wanted to kill him but he kept moving so quickly
Teeth bulged through the bed sheets
No voices- just dripping
My questionable christening

He obliged to be my God
I tried to sob out that I lost my religion
But I couldn’t stop being his open scissors
I want to become clean again
The martyrdom stains are like ink
He called me his dirty, filthy bitch
Choking on his hard omnipotence

Finally finished, he left with a smile
Shut the door, I heard the lock
For the time being, he’s gone

I touch myself and stared into bleeding fingers
He captured me and now I serve
I wish I knew for how long, the contract was never given
Little bird in the cage, without a feeder
If only I could escape
And take his heart out with my poor little fingers

On Medication

Poetry

Taking the pill again
To feel how she should
Sweat beads roll down
Like purest pearls
On her back
On her chest
And her hands
Sipping her sins
Drinking her worries
She drowns, gets up and drowns again
It pulls her in with a chain
Around her ankles, around her neck
She swallows the bubbles
Others are fine
They breathe how they should
While she’s on the dry land
A flapping fish
People passing by:
“Why is she so low?”
Taking the pill again
To feel better again
To feel how she should
But man,
We should stop pretending
Or else we will turn into
bridges for people to walk over

Innocence

Poetry

Filthy devil in an angel’s costume
Hovering around my shoulder:
“Innocent souls get eaten alive
I know how you lived a holy life
But now it’s time for you to die”

“Pack responsibilities away
Close the lid, say your goodbyes
Fade into the mist like a ghost
Float into the town of snow”

“Silent whispers lead you in
Serpents come to taste your sin
Cause no one needs your innocence”

“You are like a toy to play with
Stay where you are- don’t make a move
gourmets will sever your tongue into two”

“Angels and devils, we are all the same
Playing with death is our favourite game
Now you can’t shout for God to appear
No one will save you- no one will care”

Ventriloquist

Poetry

Paint a smile on me with red paint
Like blood for thirsty vampires
On my alabaster, youthful skin
Pinch and turn the flesh of my cheeks
You are better than makeup in making me blush
Turn me into a rose without thorns
I know you are afraid but you never show it
I don’t want to feel responsible
Men are weak, but they never show it
I feel as if I’m a doll and you are the ventriloquist
You speak on behalf of my silence
I’ve been silent for too long
It could be that I’m already dead,
Maybe, I really, really am

Glass Pillow

Poetry

Weave her a rope to hold on to
Strong enough for such weak hands
Listen if she speaks in your ear
If not she’ll soon disappear
Blood is scalding deep inside her
Like that rosemary tea you drank up
It was comforting, no it’s not
This life is drinking you up
Can you feel it?
Lay down on your glass pillow
Sleep if you want, but you’ll never wake up
Pay attention to what she wants to say
She’s your life and she’ll never go away
You could hang like an ironed shirt
But don’t be a coward, embrace her
Open your arms and run
There’s heaven and hell inside of us
And the unknown is just another day