Tag Archives: hide

Elizabeth and the Zealot

His embittered smile proclaims of an innocently senile man, but his rancid breath reeks of irreparable psychological damage.

Outside, a group of children playing tag in the playground across the street, clambering across loose gravel and joyously shrieking as outstretched hands willingly grab for their shoulders, caught unaware and simply caught.

Inside his shirt, the old crucifix his long-deceased mother gave him on the brink of her deathbed, clasp half-broken and several priceless encrusted jewels missing; a toothless grin, unfaithful gaps. The tiny metal weighs heavily against his unwashed chest, the unpleasant sensation almost burning a hole through his heart. Sometimes, he mutters a memorised creed out of reflex, though no one believes in it anymore. Perhaps not even God Himself. But him?

Mindless gazes. The chipped, mouldy statue of a weeping wooden saint in one dark nook of the living room, rotting food and dusty candles its ever-resilient offering. The mirror, barely reflective, smudged with soot and cobwebs and his tuberculosis-infected saliva. The closed window beside him like a sleepy eye, tiringly wary as it occasionally betrays a resounding laugh or a glimpse of excitedly-billowing hair. He forgets so many things nowadays, but he always remembers. The children. He must watch the children.

Or else?

Or else…

Grabbing his ragged coat from the settee, the man coughed into his fist once, twice, and absently wiped the offending knuckle onto his beige pants. He headed for the door and resolutely grabbed the tarnished doorknob with a shaky hand. The hinges squeaked. A child, perhaps the acting leader of the pack, called out for everyone’s attention as he insisted to play hide and seek.

A countdown, and the palpable air of small bodies scattering. The man decided musingly, that he would humour them and join in their little pastime. He’s always been good at hiding. Though, he sighed out in quiet lamentation, with his old age and raging rheumatism, it would not really make the job any easier for him.

But only one child would win the game that night.

No one would ever find her.

He’ll make sure of that.

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Filed under Prose

Not Your Monster

I am not your monster

I’m not the flesh you wish to rend

With your bared fangs

Clawing the sides of my shoulders

As if making me bleed

Profusely would be your salvation

.

I am not your monster

Hidden underneath the floorboards

But you have a shovel

And a knife, and the dirt you dug up

Was crammed into my

Mouth, burying all the words I spoke

.

I am not your monster

Stitched up and painted to look alive

A bride without a heart

Shambling down the aisle in despair

Veil masking the frowns

Picking thorns out of my open palms

.

I am not your monster

A lullaby you use to terrify children

Threatening retribution

From such a wicked, deformed being

Still human; though just

Not enough to invoke empathic pity

.

I am not your monster

The madness you created for yourself

Scars warn to “stay away”

An urban legend for the rest of society

No, I am not your monster

But I fear you might be becoming mine.

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Filed under Poetry

voyeurism

conceal the past

wipe your filthy mouth

but your bridal dress

is quite sleeveless

and there’s too much

blood to staunch now—

now am i your perfect

silent witness?

.

the curtain protesting

against my hunched

body, you thought it was

just the midnight wind

billowing, but it was the

breaths i failed to hold

shallowly enraged and

almost fucking deranged

.

as the unspeakable acts are

fed to me live right before

my eyes, i want to throw up

i want to stain my melting mind

with a heavy dose of ammonia

and scream to god, and scream

to stop, let my oxygen burst into

flames from immense friction

.

disgusted beyond rationality

i can’t look away, my skin shudders

as i seem to hear yours being viciously

torn apart with a sickening rip and

a sickening crunch and a sickening

laugh—but why was it yours, shit

why the fuck was it yours?! eerie calm

ensues but i’m afraid to come out

.

from my flimsy hiding place—all before the lights

turn off and a shadow shifts in front of me…

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Filed under Poetry

treachery, and then some

i’m the disconnect

the reset in the corner

of a lacerated brain

a troublemaker with a

causeless cause, if

only to destroy, if only

to wreck and rectify

if only to be the liability

that leaves beggars

and bastards cursing in

the end, cursive cry

hide myself with gaslight

to burn another home

and thrill all the stars with

these glinting claws

and fever dreams, allowing

me to pluck them out

and crush the last remains

beneath my own sins

so disconnect me—before

i scream once again

before their clocks retreat

after i’ve caused the

shame which left my own

bruised head in ruins.

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Filed under Poetry

Still. Alive.

We are made of confused atoms and endless fathoms

And falling in love, in the wrong place at the wrong time

Chasing cigarettes on sixth street astride a flock of pigeons

On a sombre wedding day, runaway like the cotton-lily bride

But her wrists are coated with bright red lipstick she wiped off

After she found out that happily ever after didn’t really exist, train

Dragging along the sidewalk, scraped skateboards and wet chalk

And grinding teeth and damp laundry scattered by grumpy landlords

Perfect enemies knocking down old drywall while the rats complain

And the best friend you haven’t talked to in decades just showed up

At your doorstep dead 2 AM, mostly drunk sometimes troubled to crash

In your couch, grin that familiar grin and ask you how you’re doing

Pretend that the medication in the bathroom cabinet’s only Ambien

And quietly sneak out the morning barelaced and shamefaced so

You’re all alone again, tapping to the faded songs you never recorded

Right by the dusty windowsill as elusive spiders build their homes in

The flat you can’t quite call your home, haunted by strangers’ past bodies

And his awful-scented aftershave of coriander that seems to linger forever

And an uprising in every locked closet hiding identities and mothballs and

Childhood VHS tapes and taped-up mystery boxes containing what might

Just be forgotten yellowing letters and cheesy postcards from every state, or

The very key to unlocking the ultimate truth of the entire universe itself…

But we’re all too busy losing our phases and being torn back to ashes to ever find out.

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Filed under Poetry

Indictment

I’m just an accessory to your crime

Did I make you look as good?

Holding me by your bleeding throat

I can taste your open wounds

.

Nevermind my shirtsleeve’s stained

Or the cameras caught my face

All that matters is that you’re hidden

And I’ll take the ultimate blame

.

I’m just another victim to your lineup

But the yellow tape’s on my lips

To stop me from leaving a clear outline

Where you left me facedown stiff.

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Filed under Poetry

sneaking around

cowards

bite their cheek

and scratch

their words—

hiding behind

sugar and

insensibility

thin tapestries;

as safety lies

in triggers

and bad fibs

and a lockdown

paralysed still

with absence

insecurities

shallow secrets

all fermenting

into the taste

of warm blood

and crying wolves

as cowards

tremble badly

dry their lips

hold their breath—

what’s your

scandal, dear

loved one?

just what do you

think you have

to lose?

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Filed under Poetry

Makeshift

Break the parts of my skin

That don’t seem to be bleeding out

A schizophrenic memory

No one could fully understand

.

A word in revolution

No lies, no truth, just sighs

Bruises on icy emotion

.

They make it out to be madness

Ad nauseum, I paint the plastic with flesh

.

Windowpanes screech against

Moonlight, flooding me with false lavender

Tones, but only in eventide

My bones blush under time spent

.

The stars scream. The stars flee.

.

Impressionistic? Or plain sadistic?

The apparitions pass away again

Smitten with the notion, the concept,

Of wrongfulness, of change, of nothing

Of monsters and messy closets

.

I hide, as I always do. I hide.

And I bide my time like it’s downcast silver

Like a broken harpsichord, I play the night—

.

If only that would prove that nothing else I feel is right.

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Filed under Poetry

L’exquise L’angoisse

Palpitating arteries eviscerate, a familiar taste that tastes like nothing

Frustrated art under his eyelids fading, clever words I’m never caught saying

Lost impressions leave deceptions, a tempestuous flood caught in the fray

Wish my headspace wasn’t suffocating the sun day after another day

.

Imagination stuttering, slowly dying, what are you trying to hide?

If hell’s your new phenomenon, I’m afraid it’s far too late to be described

Every broken bone that the restless audience throws back to your act

Refusing to feel right again, this time I know that I don’t know where to start

.

Don’t look at me. Don’t look at my deathwish. Nor my blinded existence.

I do not wish to breathe the same way you do. Do not bleed out of my presence.

My words are glass blades lodged under my bruised throat, so do not dare me to cough

The eclipse feels impossibly heavier without your weight to hold me down

And so I quietly submerge with only the sound of my empty thoughts.

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Filed under Poetry

(lost and) found

why do

i hide you

why do

i even try,

to convince

myself that

what i’m doing

is alright?

.

why did

i lose you

when you’re

just a lie,

and why do

i continue

when i know that

it’s not right?

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Filed under Poetry