Frankly madam,
I don’t recognize
that drained beast
heaving grief soaked breaths
into the mirror.
Cant you see her?
Was I the only one
now to witness the pain
flit across my bloody ears?

She twitches and
looks through your eyes
down to your mouth
and into your throat.
She knows you then
and stays there
because she had no other home
to hide in,
no cave dark and safe enough
to thrust her naked body into
and sigh relief.

Shes everywhere now,
whispering across the faces
of my fellow elders
who have seen hell,
all over you wander,
and I weep


We made love first
in the cemeteries of Salem
with the mists created of weeping angels,
rain falls ever so delicately
against our shoulders
as our mouths water pleasure.
I was a harlot heretic then
and no one
could remember my name.
some such pleasant signifier,
someone to call out to
in the dark
when the winter comes wailing.

Did my blustery bones
wake up?
I stitch them
back together
in the midnight hours,
under the mushroom where
dust and grime
are shaken off
in protest and
and our eyes

open to the wide wild world.


Stay with me,
I beg you.
Remind this old n
haggard witch
that love or hope
does exist
in the blue haze,
under the mushroom
of that sensical caterpillar.

With my people
lost forever at sea,
I stagger to the beat
of the elite,
backed into cobweb corners,
suffocating in the deep dark.

Im buzzing with
bad memories,
trauma visions,
on and on
into the morning.
And the hate
was too great
around the globe
spitting out at each other
with harshness, so
I ate through
copper wire,
arsenic laced pencils,
fairytale and telling
and drank diesel
with cup and saucer,
of course my dear,
til twilight.

I was walking around
with a blazing fire
on my back,
making me twitch
and freak,
hide in my closet
with the candles
praying to some unknown magic,
til the candles started
lighting themselves

and I sighed in relief.