The Poetry Marathon

#4: Perhaps I shouldn’t say

#4: Perhaps I shouldn’t say

i’d hate to think you think of me negatively. perhaps it would just be better if i didn’t say. but the ramblings inside my brain just won’t go away. i’m frustrated by how you’re treating me. this doesn’t mean i want you to leave. in fact, that would be the worst thing you could do. you see, i’m afraid of being alone. alone. no, i don’t want to be alone. so even though i don’t like how you’re treating me, I won’t say a thing. healthy boundaries? what are those? i’d rather just let you treat me the way you do and i’ll continue feeling this way because it’s better than being alone.

Prompt 14, Prison Toilet Missive

– Tensions from underground                            does little
to dismantle radicalism from our                  landscape.
Instead, persuasive troublemakers flourish where
recruits are preconditioned to disregard                      news
as make-believe and to, instead laud first-hand stories
or ‘yard gossip’ to exert control over weaker inmates.
That ex-convicts are barred from participating in the election
process their                               of marginalization.
We anticipate if unabated, the ongoing trends spell potential
for dire effects on our                     processes –

Venus de Milo (prompt 14)

Hour 12: (Don’t) Find Me

Eight-year-olds are absolute shit at hide and seek

They always hide in the same one or two places

And then wonder how you found them

Except if they’re in danger

Except if they were me

 

In my terrifying house

With my terrifying brother

And my terrifying step-dad

Tiny, very not-so-terrifying me

Had a hiding spot

 

Closets were a game changer

 

I had the obvious one

My bedroom closet

I used this one

If I knew I wasn’t in

That much trouble

 

They could find me easily

But that was the point

Lure them into

The safety of routine

Like they had done for me

 

Then I had the closet

Under the stairs

Full of Christmas decorations

And other things they tossed aside

I fit in there

 

Of course, they would check

My bedroom closet first

I always hid there, right?

I wasn’t the kind of girl

Who put up a fight

 

Eventually, though, they’d find me

It wouldn’t last forever

But it was never meant to

I used this spot when

I needed time to be brave

 

But then I had the hall closet

Less than 2 feet deep

Lined with shelves

No one ever looked there

They thought I wouldn’t fit

 

If someone did open the door

They’d look below the shelves

On the floor

As if it was the only place

I deserved to be

 

But I was small, and smart,

And scared, and in danger

And 8-year-old me

Could fit into some

Very small spaces

 

So I would not hide on the floor

Not where they might think to look

I would suck it in

And scrape my skin

And I would make myself fit

 

I would hide on the top shelf

In the tiny linen closet

They didn’t realize there was

Over a foot of space up there

If you could just fit in the space

 

Between the doorframe and the shelf

It couldn’t have been more than 8 inches tall

I’d have bruises on my ribs

And no one would find me

Till morning

Hour 2: An accident

A little girl ran out to her garden
The wide range of colors that Nature spread fascinated her
Smelling the fragrance she caressed them
Goose bump their velvety touch created on her tender skin
She closed her eyes and savored the warm feeling
Suddenly a rough gloves hand covered her mouth
And dragged her to the bushes
He stripped and raped her and ran away
Whimpering the bleeding child ran to her mother
And cried, “mom, I just had an accident”

Redacted version
A little girl ran out to her garden
The that Nature spread fascinated her
Smelling the fragrance she caressed them
Goose bumps their velvety touch created on her tender skin
She closed her eyes and savored the warm feeling
Suddenly a rough hand covered her mouth
And dragged her to the bushes
He ran away
Whimpering the bleeding child ran to her mother

Hour Fourteen: Barriers

No worries about

The wall with the window

To nowhere

Too smooth to climb

Too wide to get over

Too boring for temptation

Who is it keeping out?

Who is it keeping in?

 

The highway barrier

A slab of unmovable concrete

Tough enough

To protect and restrain

A piece of peace

To rest upon

 

The hoodie to hide behind

For keeping secrets

For keeping myself unknown

To burrow under for respite

To frighten unfriendlies

Who get too close for comfort

Rachnoc haiku 14 hour 14

Earth worn depths tremble.
Vigour fueled,two soul meat,
Spreads out horned star gaze.

CATFISH – #14

Bottom (REDACTED) aims high

Aiming too low

Patsy quickly diminishes her (REDACTED)

He’s not slow in (REDACTED) forward

Firm love set in phone’s fantasy

He (REDACTED) closer in time

But it’s (REDACTED) imaginary on the line.

Unheard

Sitting in the living room
Listening about your day
Giving my best advice
And words of comfort
A lull in conversation
I begin to speak
Sharing about my day
But you don’t seem to hear me
I stop mid sentence
Wondering if you will notice
My silence
You don’t

Winter’s Reaper – Hour 14

Macabre, Death’s flights of fancy grow still.

Still, the cold hands of a Reaper’s winter.

Longing, the embrace of eternity I offer.

Pulsating, my expired and absolute heart.

Captivated, our embrace in Eternity’s journey and demise.