a keyhole into the past

i find breath on my neck, again

it is not the darkness behind

the door that scares me

i pick the corners of my fingernails

eating the leftover skin

the breath whispers

“adore me”

it is not the darkness of

the unknown that scares me

i jam a screwdriver into the lock

prying open the door

but also, my ribcage

scattering dead butterflies

the breath turns to laughter

which sounds like a car accident

it is not the darkness,

the end, that scares me

fingers bloodied, body

dismembered, i enter

“i have swallowed myself

whole before.” the breath whispers

as have i

it is the darkness

inside myself that scares me

--A Conversation with Anxiety

god cracked his whip at my spine

spreading lightning streaks

across my back

and into my brain

frazzled uncomputed thoughts

interrupted my solar system and

the sun that spun in the center of

my gravitational pull snuffed out

a candle is no match for

the breath of the almighty

i have lost myself in the darkness

claw marks line the center of my

ribcage and strewn

teeth lay in my belly

i peel these teeth from

my core and rearrange them in

my mouth as a smile

#poetry #prose #horror #macabre

your first breath filled your lungs with dirt

your insides felt hollow and empty

you clawed your neatly trimmed nails at the intricately

woven and hidden string that wired your mouth and eyes shut

free, you see the darkness that has swallowed you

you can feel your favorite watch, heavy on your wrist,

the one that you only wore for special occasions

you wiggle your fingers down to the silk tie,

too tight around your neck, and down to the metal buttons

you try to move to the left, but the tightness of your

cage forces you back down, to cross your hands,

like the well-behaved child you were in fifth grade,

but unlike the reckless adult who never wore his seatbelt

you press your hands to the roof of your confinement,

but the weight of the earth above you presses down, relentlessly

#poetry #secondperson #POV #horror #afterlife #prose

Sometimes I find myself performing

autopsies on old conversations

peeling

away my diction like freshly severed

flesh and I wonder if I had

cracked

ribs differently or refused to remove

hearts and drain your blood from

your veins that I would have never

stolen

the air from your lungs turning

your lips blue and

splitting your bones

under the weight of my words and no matter

how deep I dive into the body I always

find my pen writing out the cause of death as

premature

and I bury my feelings deep into

the soil next to the last one and they shall

stay there until the next time I dig up the body

and find myself lingering in the morgue

#poetry #horror #macabre #freewrite