dominatrix

i don’t toy with their hearts

unless they hand them over willingly

begging me to tear at their ribcage just enough

to teach them the spelling of pain

at half past three in the morning

depression

i have cradled her for eons

don’t remember what my gait feels like

without her gentle weight

etched into my palms

since my baby teeth started falling

like angel tears on our hardwood floor

her and i have grown attached at the hip

siamese twins

when i try to untangle myself

she tells me i am nothing

all because a little part of my pelvis

and my extra head

are missing

when she is gone

i am forced to face the dark (k)night outside

rather than rest in the soft void that grows in my eyelids

when she makes me cry,

soft, like a tormented babe,

i will tear my eyes from the ground and meet her gaze

i fall in love with her a little bit more

every second.

medusa

at 22 years old

her snake-less body

was one of wonder

to the man

---

at 23

it carried nothing but scars

and asps wrapped in her braids

heroes raged

at her independence

and at their own mortality

---

turned their hearts to stone

then to dust

all the while

the pit in her own

stayed dark

the boa on her forehead

still hissed

its sacred song

parts

her love is fractal

we cherish it still

dark rum and ginger beer

courses through our veins

i sit in her memory

smoke another cigarette

get lost in haze

and wake up tomorrow

ready to forget it all

my wedding to depression

my jaw has grown tense

i have been encased 

in dark pit of anxiety

for too long

to remember the honeymoon phase

in mallorca

they served us heart-shaped lies

on a silver platter

i watched her mojito

turn to mint and water

stared into the abyss

and wished to be someone else

tomorrow

diary

i went to bed 

a little late today

i am scared of the marks

sleep paralysis

leaves 

on my neck

on april 29

two-thousand-and-sixteen

i was lying on a wet street alley

struggling against molten hands

a coat to big for me

hurled over my body

covering my skin

and the purple and blue sunsets

engraved on it

– i ask my body for forgiveness

in stifled sobs

around noon

every day.

present tense

i wake up in a slaughterhouse

glass windows do nothing

to save me

crawl to the emergency exit

on hands

and knees

palms

and feet

a trail of blood

for gretel

to find me 

in a month or two

by then

i will either

have recovered

or died

memories

i went on a date/

with a girl/

whose golden teeth/

left red tattoos/

on my neck/

still the ink in my fingertips/

has run dry/

i wrap myself in a faux/

(minx fur)

coat/

every night/

wish my bones had been washed/

of forgiveness and agony/

but instead my organs scream/

of addiction/

i punish them/

stay in love with a man/

whose fists marked my soul/

with bruises and fear

daymare

the nooks and crannies of my heart

have hidden more predators

than the shadows ever could

and the monsters under my bed

recoil at the sight

of the beast

above them.

bi annual

i forgot how sweet sugar plums tasted/

until i ate them off your lips/

dipped my toes in the twentyfold embrace/

of your fragility/

please don’t let me go tonight./

i don’t want to sleep alone.