In the twilight of the morning your voice calls out. Distant and low. Through the trick senses of a subconscious mind. It's gentle and low. Breathy against the darkness of the room. Heavy with lust and need. Uncontrollable need whispered gently in the unseen breeze.

The curtain flutters. A silent motion. Broken apart by eyes heavy with guilt and unrest. They close to find the beauty of your sinful smile stamped upon darkened lids. An apparition lost inside the cells of a tormented soul.

You are trapped there. Incarcerated by sin and lust and disappointment. Held deep within by the fury of withheld passion and sin.

Forever dwelling, moist and tempting, hovering just above the thighs.

Emerging from paradise, 

Glissening under white light.  

Beyond luscious greenery 

and quiet babbling brook, 

He says: 

"Welcome home, my love". 

Purple fields of thyme in the backyard,

An old Abbey on a thank you card,

A strong maple tree,

Freedom as far as the eye can see,

An old house up on a cliff,

As perfect as childhood myths,

Millions of stars up in the sky,

Flowers decorated with a butterfly,

A white banister rails,

Floors of grey-blue shale,

The place as perfect as summer dreams,

Where everything is just as it seems 

It was an over-sized room, meant for the combined use of relaxing and dining. Dingy 70's taupe carpeting complimented the prickly couch of the same unsettling shade. I was small, and the sofa felt like a boat, floating in a sea of life stains and muddy footprints. The coffee table felt a mile away; there was no way I would get up to reach my drink. Nothing could make me move from my seat. It was safe. And I was alone. 

Ten minutes until the new year. Brightly colored lights flashed along the wood paneled wall behind the television, soaking through the sheer curtains covering the large bay window to my right. The night was loud, but the room was eerily quiet. Obnoxious booms from nearby fireworks couldn't quite penetrate the house's brick walls, creating a muffled kind of static that hurt my head. Now and then I would hear a faint knock against the back door, along with the slight fluttering of the doggy door.  

They didn't own a pet. 

From my spot on the couch, my view was straight down a darkened hallway that took a hard right around a corner. I could vaguely see into the dimly lit bathroom but nothing else. The sound of my heartbeat echoed in my ears, seeming to keep pace with the muted ruckus outside.

I didn't want to stay. I had nowhere else to be.

The remote to the t.v. was lost, and crossing the ocean of a living room felt like an unrealistically dangerous endeavor for a few bad channels. Hardly worth the risk. 

There was a breeze flowing in from the enclosed kitchen. I told myself a window must have been left open by mistake. 

There were no windows in the kitchen.

The giant clock looming over the fireplace mantle read 11:55. 

I don't know what I was nervous for, but anticipation bubbled up inside me. New Years was nothing of importance to me. Why did it matter now?

As I watched the second hand tick along quietly, one of the three light bulbs in the ceiling fan above me burst, and went dark. 

I was a statue of a girl, listening to the rasps of her own breath. 

11:57.

The television set turned on, and the monotonous beeping of the microwave sounded from the other room. 

I was certain my lungs had stopped working all together.

11:59.

All was silent. Any noise from neighboring partygoers dulled. Fireworks stilled, and the night was dark once more. I strained my ears in an attempt to hear anything at all, but there was nothing. Only the clock ticking and the fan blades whirling. 

I waited. I don't know what for.

12:00.

Everything erupted into lights and sounds, pops and bangs, screams of excitement. The house lit up with the iridescent glow of New Years Eve. Although bright enough to see, the living room was still the same dark, minimalistic cave it was before. Jovial whoops bounced down the street. And I couldn't take my eyes off that hallway. 

An intense feeling of dread flooded me, and I swallowed painfully hard. 

Nothing was there. 

But when I looked closer, the noises of drunken fun playing on the other side of the walls around me, my eyes squinted, I could see the shape of three long, bony fingers caressing the wall, being dragged back around the corner.

Flashes of fireworks sparked down the hall, illuminating the darkness for a brief moment.

Nothing was there.

The world today seems to be going crazy

With people believing what they see on TV

Everyone has become complacent and lazy

And in the process losing their humanity.

Women and children are dying,

Innocent people are bombed

Why do we sit here lying

About those whom we have wronged?

Blame won't make the violence stop

Ignorance won't change a thing

We need to stop focusing on one lot

Of people we are persecuting.

Islam isn't an entity

That is the cause of everything

Islamic people are deserving of empathy

They are also a human being.

If I wanted you, Id be wearing your skin like clothing. I'd trace my body with my fingers, with your blood on the tips. Pointing, and trailing down to my abyss that screams your name.

If I wanted you, you'd be stained from head to toe with the crimson of my lips. You'd be drenched entirely in my desire, gasping for air with your fists clenched.

If I wanted you, you'd be rooted deep within me. I'd cut out all my vital organs, and then disassemble you. I'd hide the best of you deep inside me, keeping you warm and out of sight of intrusive hands.

But if I didn't want you, I would never be claimed by thoughts of ways to see my pain pour out of me. I would hunt the path to a smile of my own, and never once look back at all the skeletons you created.

I wouldn't be burned by your landscapes, or crippled by your uncharted waters.

I'd be breathing.

Stay away from the mirrors,

they whisper in fear.

Your reflection will leer,

And never endear.

It whispers lies in your ear—

Not what you need to hear.

Stay away from the mirrors.

Don't get too near.

Don't worry, my dear.

You are more than you fear.

A fond gaze pierces through her blatant lies,

She’ll never blend with the other faces,

For her desperation has been gracious,

A relation the strain of time defies.

She’ll never blend with the other faces,

The brief glimpse of trust she feigned, I despise,

Their honesty has cowered in disguise,

For her desperation has been gracious.

The brief glimpse of trust she feigned, I despise,

Mirth keeping us shackled, she erases,

Space I stole in her heart, she replaces

Their honesty has cowered in disguise.

Mirth keeping us shackled, she erases,

We pitifully clutch our withered ties,

For I’ll never move past her, I surmise,

Space I stole in her heart, she replaces.

I sigh with my

        Broken up breaths

I would endure the pain

       Of a thousand deaths

Just to feel your head lay

    Yet again on my chest

But together is how we

     No longer rest

Your whispering voice

    Left behind a choice echo

Mind tempering words

  "Please never let go"

Can't destroy the world

     You helped me create

My love for you is something

     I could never duplicate

I pace the house

    Never thinking what I should

Contemplating some things

   That I never understood

Like insisting our blanket

   Always to be upside down

Or making me fluff your pilllow

  So you can just beat it down

Perhaps one day you could

  Answer my questions

Or at least drop a hint

   And a passive suggestion

Morning still has a view

   Of coffee in your favorite mug

And plenty of attention towards

  Your beloved obnoxious pug

That hair you made fun of

  Is turning more grey

In fact spotted more

    In my beard today

The books you held dear

   I now constantly read

And the flowers you planted

  Finally sprung from the seeds

At dawn your favorite candle

  Still dances in flame

And the shadows on the wall

   Plays along all the same

Clock strikes midnight

   Upside down blanket

Fluffy pillow

  Staring at my empty chest

As you now rest

     Underneath the weeping willow

Daniel

  J

Dabney

          And

               My

                 Fucked

                            Up

                              Mind

    July 3rd 2016

Froth festers from the slack-jawed maw,

blathering barbaric prattle.

He babbles--

squeals, squirms, like worms, writhing till he withers while the

whip claps

with clacks,

which cracks

his skin.