Tag Archives: witness

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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The Girl On The Train

“I have lost control over everything, even the places in my head.” ~The Girl On The Train; Paula Hawkins

~*~

The start was the year

The broken was the fall

The night was the fear

The murder was the call

Caught into a secret lie

The witness exchanged

In the blink of her eyes

Her perception changed

On darkness and vomit

Stalked a nuclear family

A crime witnessed writ

Eyes unfocus unreliably

Screaming for their life

And blood hits the floor

Twist that dulled knife

Burn down all the doors

As a love goes screwing

The confessions infest

A person goes missing

Dug into a ruined mess

When a heart runs wild

And the pain sets again

The suburbia is defiled

Alcohol always listens

It screams like the train

And burns down tracks

Of their mistaken pain

And a gruesome attack

On shattered memory

The suspense gets lost

Divorces, drunk sorry

And all that it has cost

The blackouts are gory

Stale violence so grim

Can’t tell the full story

Only the ones on skin

But pieces will unlock

And truth can be found

Of a nice liar that knocks

A mistress under ground

The start were the lovers

The broken were the sins

The night was the horror

And the murder was within.

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Filed under Poetry