Love from Loxosceles

Your slender fingers weave the web

As the ring-tone rings I lie in bed.

Hostile whispers from the telephone,

When the key clicks the door, say:

Honey, I’m home.

A poem I do not remember,

A room that I cannot forget.

When I burn the papers they spill, under the bed

letters I have no memory of writing

whisper my name, songs laud and dread.

As they sing me to sleep, caress me,

their small grips force my head.

A heavy hand spins threads entwining, holding 

me down, I'm Gulliver.

When your call disrupts the telephone

Open your throat from the depths and roar

Your belligerent pleas of affection.

On your knees weeping the contradiction

of a lover feeding on prey's affliction.

 

A martyr preaching polluted prayers,

whose words of love are built like fetters.

Kiss my husk and bring it tender,

ever closer to the ember.

Somewhere you linger in seclusion.

Arachnid, languid, lilliputian.

From death-like stupor our lips turn blue.

Split apart your ribs and coo:

Darling, I Love You.

Midnight Dread

I feel an impending sense of doom.

Thin bottled pills won’t cull the gloom?

I wonder why I sprout this fright,

Blooming as the clock signals for night.

Beneath my skin I tremble, weak,

Yet my eyes won't seem to weep.

I know when I feel the call of dark

it's time to wait for the morning lark. 

Why does the clock strike at my heart,

the hands at ten and two tear me apart.

The hands at eleven and twelve pull me closer

to the edge of despair which I won't muster.

I feel an impending sense of doom

when it's time to quiet beneath the moon.

I rip at my face with determination

for blood and scabs whisper me absolution.

The Prince of Slumber

Tonight I call to you with music,

I want to see you in my dreams.

I want to tell you all the new things

I’ve learnt from plucking out your stings.

Tonight I summon you in hushed whispers,

Puzzle-piece you from memories,

To let you know how much I hate you

I want to see you in my dreams.

I have no memory of your voice now

But I still clearly hear your words.

I want to spit the truth back at you,

I want my tongue to cut like swords.

Tonight I’ll force you into my dreamscape,

I’ll wrestle you into my sleep.

So I can spill on you forgiveness.

So I can pull apart your seams.

I shall uproot that meek box garden

Where I was bound lifetimes ago.

I see the bars and taste the water

Of that grey room in summer's core.

Oh angel! how low you've fallen,

A bad dream calling from the depths.

I shall rename him Prince of Slumber.

Tonight I'll see you in my dreams.

The Gift of Sleep

Dear mother, father, 

I've grown tired

This world won't let me disappear.

When I was young I thought 

that I’d be dead by seventeen

But I kept following orders and now

Somehow I’m still here

It becomes increasingly difficult to follow orders

Because they want to convince themselves

That they’re good people, that “do what makes you happy” 

is the right thing to say, when even they don’t follow it themselves

You won’t just let me disappear

So tell me what you want from me! 

You want me to stick around, then give me orders

I’m sick of pretending I want to be here

There’s so much I love, people and things

That make me happy, but it’s not enough.

It’s not enough to justify another ten or fifty years

I don’t want it

They won’t just let me disappear

When I was young I thought that I’d be dead by seventeen

Now I’m twenty and I hope I’ll at least be dead by fifty

Please just let me disappear

How dare you call me selfish

When it was you who put me here

I don’t want to pay for someone to convince me

Please, fuck, just let me disappear.

You had no plan, why put me here?

If you love me, please, 

just let me disappear.

Orpheus et Hors d'Oeuvre

Entre séjours et hors d'oeuvre:

I wait for you to notice the direction.

I have grown attached to our routine,

I know you well and you well know me.

Lay your attention upon known fiend.

Entre séjours et plats principaux:

You peek at me between the chatter,

and I just hope I'll catch your eyes.

You then pretend you haven't noticed,

how the silver platter reflects your glance.

Entre séjours et le dessert:

Our tension holds the same polarity.

I am Orpheus, and you, my vice.

But you're no Eurydice, dear Cinderella.

I'll follow you into orchards dark.

Entre séjours et dire adieu:

Mischief awakes as the swan slumbers,

our card is lovers in this forgotten land.

I've walked this way a thousand times over.

A danse macabre or a pas de deux?

Ici il n'y a pas des dieux.

Go To Your Room

And you can’t see it because I can’t let it out.

I look like I’m taking a nap but in my head I’m losing my mind

Im hitting my head again the wall, scratching my knuckles until I bleed, screaming, rolling on the ground

Im breaking furniture and my mood swings so violently I can’t keep up, I can't even look at myself

But I can’t let it out

I don’t know how to let it out

I’ve lived like this for so long, that I physically can’t let it out

My body just shuts down

I get aggressive and I get angry and sad and crazy

And my body gets sleepy, so I lie down

And I close my eyes and disconnect 

All the while inside I’m losing it

And I’m afraid of what it would look like if I ever snapped and let it out

Because there’s so much of it

But all my body lets me do is cry

All I do is scratch my skin and cry

And fall asleep again

And my brain forgets what I even thought or what I even felt

Until it comes back up and I remember

And I fall asleep again.

My Name

The reason I love my name 

Is because I see it as a gift from the people I love.

From the people who love me.

Perhaps I do not feel connected to this existence,

Perhaps my soul live not in the name.

I do not feel connected to the self that others perceive me as,

And my own sense of self is not tethered to their game.

But to me it is not a chain 

that binds me. 

It is embroidered in the towels my grandmother gave me,

It’s written on the birthday wishes that my best friend sent

When we were eleven, twelve.

My name is not me, she's a sister.

I love her, and she loves them, and we love him.

The fourteen year old boy who fell asleep weeping,

The twenty-year old who acknowledged what They were,

and bid kind acknowledgement to Him and Her.

My name is not me, but she is my beloved.

She has cared for me and held me, even

when her love was dearly unwanted.

But we'll move forward, through our life,

for there exists no other who so tightly gripped my hand.

My name is the mask others will see upon me,

But I have never really worn a mask.

I will just live. Exist. And breathe and move on,

expect respect and to love remain open,

For she is not me, but with her I am never alone.

And my name and I will carry on.

And with her gift their life was dyed upon.

So They will walk with ‘her’ in hand,

Because my name is a gift

from people that knew not who I am.