it's all the same but different

back to the sidewalk. the phone booths and trash cans, newspaper boxes all eye you warily, they pull themselves in tightly to avoid your desperate touch. eyes crazed, dart back and forth, around, find something solid, something that will support you, something not spinning and spiraling out of control with bright flashing lights. no not them, we've made that mistake before. follow this crack in the cement, the one with the grime and faint wisps of green trying to make the city a forest again keep walking one foot in front of the other you notice the holes in your dirty shoes your right toe peeks out every time you lift your foot to take a step step step toe toe toe suddenly the sounds are overwhelming the smacking of shoes on the pavement the horns of cars the chattering cavalcade of voices STOP you slap your hand to your head shaking and take deep breaths but your vision goes to sickening swirling darkness

time when is it what time is it.. jerk upwards are we sitting up now I look around but there's nothing I recognize nothing of you nothing of me help help I taste bile in my mouth and remember the sidewalk and reaching out for help and then the hands all around me... but wait that was before, that already happened, this had to be a different time but no the memory feels the same am I dreaming am I reliving the past something is not quite right there were no hands this time and I purposely avoided the people I remember now... how am I here where am I
I can get up. I swing my legs to the side of the small bed I'm on and push up onto my feet. Not sturdy but I should be able to at least make it out of this room. Let's walk now right to that door and try to escape our possible prison.

what are you thinking

she crawls, reaching one hand out in front of the other, scraping at the wet ground, pulling her weight along the muddy grass, fingernails full of dirt, smudges on her face, clothes torn and smeared with red. almost there, don't give up now, ignore the blackness closing in on the edges of your vision. we can make it, we have to... sweat trickles down her face and breaths come ragged and gasping. her skin crawls with dread at the thought of being caught out in the open field. flipping flashing memories play back in her mind, the order of events uncertain and the events themselves confused and blurred.. what was real, what was a dream... the rope, the man with blood covered hands, the smell of rotting flesh, the dog with one eye, the hotel hallway, the bed, the broken glass from the window...

me-skeleton

she's taking it out the upstairs window I can hear the scraping on the ledge as she pushes off. I wait, wait... for the tumultuous crash that is sure to follow, for the plane won't fly without the head, which I hid. she's too young to realize this though, and so the afternoon adventure soon to turn death spectacle proceeds. I should yell or make some effort to stop her, but she has been so ruthless with the bugs and bats that I don't care if she falls to her end amidst the bones of the devastated me-skeleton aircraft. Her blood can feed the thirsty ground and perhaps a lovely twisted black tree will grow from the spot and then fall and crush this miserable prison of a house I can't seem to escape.
The crash comes and I shake myself out of the lovely lilting daydream of destruction, and take a step towards the dirty window to peer out at the hopefully horrendous scene...
she sits, surrounded by the bones and sinews, and giggles gleefully, smashing a beetle with a fragment of femur.
Things just don't work out the way we know they will.

Little Alien

I looked out across the sandy expanse of land before me and exhaled slowly. Stretching out my tendrils towards my bright green combat boots, I felt my leg muscles resist and clench up after the long day’s run. The sun was sitting just above the horizon, outlining the few cacti and plants scattered meagerly in the landscape. Behind me the sky was darkened and a few eager stars were already beginning to show. I wonder how much farther it is to the camp.. will I get there tonight if I go fast enough? It’s dangerous to travel after the sunset, but I wasn’t really worried about that. I had seen enough fights by now to know I could hold my own with any from this planet. There were animals to watch out for… snakes and coyotes and the poisonous scorpions. And sandpits, that you could step on and keep falling to the center of the earth, or so they said. Not that anyone had ever come back from an experience like that. I laughed to myself and decided to keep resting. I could make it in plenty of time if I left just before dawn. Closing my eyes and laying back onto my bag, I half-awake and half-sleepily dreamed about sliding down a sandy chute to the center of the planet.

Batty Finn and the Fight-for-your-teeth Boys

Take a step back now, Batty, breathe in, out, think this through. The boy lunged at me and without hesitation I swung my fist and hit him square in the jaw. A loud crack filled the air and a hiss came from somewhere out of my line of sight. A thin line of bright red trickled from the corner of the boys mouth, and he glared at me, then spat at the ground. A rush of adrenaline filled me and made the corner of my mouth twitch into a slight grin. In the bloody mess on the dirt were two white, solid lumps. I had got his teeth.
“That’s it, fights off,” a voice growled from my side. One of the boys, the eldest I assumed, marched into the dirt ring and pulled the boy I had been fighting out. He mumbled something to him, then turned back to me.
“Batty Finn, we’re letting you go this time. But don’t count on us being so nice if we meet again,” he said. His face was hard, expressionless, but I could see in his eyes the burning anger and hatred.
“That was you being nice?” I stuck my tongue through the gap on the left side of my mouth where my lovely pearly incisor had once been. “You got one of mine, too.” I smirked, knowing I was taunting. I had taken out nine teeth between four of the boys.
He stepped closer and leaned in towards me, his voice low and threatening.
“If we ever cross your path again, you won’t be walking away so lucky.” He looked into my eyes as he said it and I saw that he seemed to be serious. He leaned even closer, surprising me slightly, and his eyes moved to my lips. I felt my heart beat faster in my chest. He pushed his hand up to push a piece of his black hair from his eyes, then reached it out to hold my chin gently.
“Let me see it again,” he murmered. I stared blankly at him. Of course. He just wanted to see his small victory. I opened my mouth just wide enough fro him to see the still bloody and tender space. Looking a little less depressed, he glanced back up to my eyes, then kissed me on the cheek. “Thanks,” he said, and turned on his heel and jogged back to his group of friends. I rocked back on my heels and wondered at the moment, then shook my head and hastily gathered my knapsack and canteen. I left the clearing with only one quick look back to the boys, who were still complaining and showing off their battle wounds to each other.
As I got farther away I felt the soft stir of air I was so accustomed to, and Little Bat appeared at my side. The other end of my ripped thread still hung from him, tied in a neat bow around his neck. I looked down to my hand and winced at the frayed string that dangled uselessly from it.
Hello love, I thought. Did you watch?
Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Lb thought back. You made them mad. He giggled and I poked his round furry belly.
“I tried,” I said aloud. “I didn’t even get to go up against that tall one, he ended it too soon.”
Scared, Lb said.
“Ha, not likely. Just worried about the gang’s reputation I think. He seemed like he was itching for a good fight…” I drifted off as I thought back to his green eyes staring into mine. What a strange boy, his moods changing at the drop of a hat.

my plane took off and it was coasting along so sweetly in that warm air until i realized it was made of my bones bound with my muscle and sinew, and i was only my head left sitting on this me-skeleton plane, my mind rambling along on leftover electric pulses which would soon fade.

we sacrifice ourselves.

I have a penchant for teeth marks and fresh blood and a hysterical scratching screaming in my ears
let’s go, let’s do this
let’s dance on the wings of our me-skeleton planes and down drinks while we see the world from a bird’s eye
don’t fall now baby, you’d never make it

I don't like

that was then this is now_that was never

it's choking it's choking it's convulsing

pick pieces out of your hair try to wipe away the smudges on your face
walk down the aisle avoiding the conspiring toes reaching out to trip you
faces eagerly await your downfall
don't fall down

I kiss your neck and it's feverish searing my lips as they linger
don't lift a finger dear don't pinch the nerves to my heart
best you keep quiet and die with your secrets intact
don't break

When I met the brokenhearted boy

I glanced down to his thread and a lump formed in my throat; I was overwhelmed by sadness. Dangling there was a heart, broken in two. His string had been carefully wrapped around the two pieces, holding them together, the ends tied in a bow. For some reason that detail made it even more depressing... I instantly wished I hadn't looked, because now I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes again through the grated hole in his helmet. I would know now how deep the sorrow in his gaze went, right down to the broken heart on his thread. I could feel my spider crawling up my arm towards my shoulder, to rest in his favorite spot on my collarbone. He was coming to comfort me... he could feel my pain for the boy. I felt immensely grateful for my spider, and that in turn brought a new wave of grief for this broken boy, who had no companion at the end of his thread, only his damaged heart.

sick

i'm a dizzying dripping mess i'm melting to the floor feeling nauseated and lost reaching out to people passing by they don't even see me they purposely avert their eyes. it comes up again i vomit bile and blood all over the cement and my shoes a man in a suit jumps back in disgust and then continues quickly on his way there's black ooze dripping from my lips and the world around me blurs as i try to make my way down the street groping trash cans and feeling up phone booths i get a few more blocks before i feel my knees buckle the world rushes away from me through a tunnel like a ride i went on at that park.. and then its black.

heat on my back. fingers hands everywhere i can't tell if they are helping or hurting it's a feeling somewhere in between like

a cord of veins and tendons that is wrapping around my legs and arms pulling me in opposite directions hoping to rip limb from limb in a cascading parade of red luscious liquid

twisting

of fork tines
I could remove your eyes
so delicately
puncture the tip of each finger
and lick up the droplets of blood
watch your eyes flood
as I softly saw through your shins
"you don't need feet dear
I'll take care of you"
the flooding breaks over the dams
of your lower eyelids

about you (to be continued...)

falling
from that high up window i am sitting on the ledge chipping paint scraping the backs of my thighs as i sip a can of diet cherry coke and peer down at the distant ground stretching out below me thinking of the clichéd balcony scene and if she was so in love why didn't she just jump down there and break her legs or her face and he could just carry her off and they could have been together then even though that doesn't sound particularly pleasant. i blow hair out of my eyes and take another sip lick my lips savoring the sickly sweet of aspartame left on them. i feel the edge of the sill cutting into my legs the ache in my wrist from leaning on it my thoughts shift constantly random bursts and sparks spinning like a carousel with you standing still at the center. i want to reach out and touch the pretty animals and chariots but the swirling mess would be render me a lavinia my hands hacked off tongue cut out left in a daze with no way to explain.
tingling in my foot brings reality sharply back into focus and i can see everything so clear it hurts i don't know where to look. as my eyes adjust i drain my soda and crush the can, throw it watch it fall to the street below.

devoted

there's a cobweb dripping from my ear to my finger sticky threads shudder at the slight draft from the window how long have I been here my aching body stuck in this pose this feigned statue of reality dark bleary eyes circle my mind this morbid dream tortures and taunts me constantly soon the mortician (beautician of the dead) will pull the wires and lift my waxy face into a smile for people to peer at when I lay in that casket on display for the leering jeering ones who come to skulk around the room and snicker quietly with each other about how pathetic my demise was how I sat waiting until my breath just slipped away forever

"It's all explained in the fine print," she says.
Well that's just great, on the one day I forgot my glasses.
I squint at the papers and try to make out the miniature words, dancing all over the page like rabbits or baby squid. Is that a "spine" I see, and a "while you are sleeping, dear?" I haven't the foggiest what this all could be about.
"Is there any chance you could help me read this, my mind just slipped this morning and I seem to have forgotten my spectacles..." I look at her hopefully.
She raises one eyebrow and then goes back to work. That went swimmingly.
Peering back down at the jungle of words, I search for prey. "Broken," "bloody," and "dismembered" all peep up from different sections. This isn't sounding very optimistic.
"You know what, I'll just take this with me to read over, is that all right?" I ask. Another eyebrow raise and a moment of thought, then she nods precisely and I jump from my chair and run down all twelve sets of stairs to the blistering day outside.

maybe

We’re supposed to be alone
That way no one can ever hurt us
And we can never hurt anyone else
Maybe we’re supposed to live in solitude
Sit under a great old tree
And let our fingernails grow into our palms
Maybe we’re supposed to live in the woods
Each in our own cottage made of candy
And we’ll eat ourselves to death one
Sticky sickly sweet bite at a time would
The toothache be worth it in the end


Will the toothache be worth it in the end?

don't take it

don't take that away I need that still the pieces to make something new
it will be golden and glowing and stained with blood but soft
stitches of black thread help mend but tangle and sometimes will twist and choke
there are slices of flesh laid out there on the platter still dripping after extraction from the rest of you
they will lap up the sauces and with gravy and red life dripping down their chins they'll smile with shining faces and tilt their heads back in a satisfied laugh
I wipe my palms again on the white apron and the smears of death left behind show my sins
hello cockroach crawling out from the cupboard little darling I feed him a scrap of skin
I slump against the counter, chin in hand, and watch him chew thoughtfully
two, two, two, three, four... four, four.. repeat my life repeat my breath my tongue my teeth
they won't stop this mess they won't ever be caught
hello little carnivore
you're such a scavenger like me
hello little cannibals
hello monsters in the penthouse

I would walk all over you

except that I'm not really like that. My style has more to do with forks and knives and the glow of candlelight on warm skin tipsy turning room makes people feel light and happy and slightly sick maybe it's that lingering taste of blood and sweat and maybe it's that tiny twisted thought in the back of your mind that slight sour feeling in your stomach that you've done the worst possible thing.. but as you sip more and see the laughing giddy faces around you start to swirl you let your worries slip away up up like the smoke up into the smoggy ceiling, leaving morals memories and spines for the less cannibalistic.

I try to erase my feelings of pattering heart and sweaty palms as I rip your corpse into strands. You are to be served with a dark red wine and then when the meal is done they'll be picking their teeth and exchanging flighty comments about the stocks while your ghost stands there screaming a silent plea for help. you watch them play with the remains of you left on their plates candlelight gleaming in their eyes and fork tines and curse the day you said you loved me.

carnival carrion

mellow, swallow. sticky pink cotton candy stuck to your fingers I grab them and lick puffy sugar melting as it hits my tongue too sweet flavor makes my teeth ache. where's the metallic taste of blood I've become so accustomed to. I try to look back at your face but already it is swimming in a sea of festive colors. the confection flavor in my mouth suddenly makes me feel ill, and my head spins with the lights of the fair. sicksicksick. why am I doing this to myself.