spiders inside me

*WARNING* THIS COULD BE A TRIGGER FOR VICTIMS OF SEXUAL ABUSE/ASSAULT

 

In the morning he crawls across me
pasting me with his skin

his limp tongue travels around the clock

tick….tock

I watch the fan spin my blood to a thick boil
fists tied white
chest tight
open wide…..

spiders crawl in
feeding ammunition
his slow words lock the air
his hard wear
my pulled hair

I’m twisted around this prison
caged in a dark rhythm
until the deep alarm
the heartbeat

his slimy little army marches through deep flesh
he smiles
trying to disarm me

and I watch the fan spin around and around
and wait for the
spiders to crawl out.

Seven Hearts

She hang hearts. Seven of them.
Red pumps from flesh addicts,

seven of them.
Seven black suits that took her
dancing, then

to a buttoned up apartment
to unbutton
her dress.

Her white legs shook as she thread
dead chambers,
ashamed
of suits
that dance and bring
red-heads night caps.

She sits. Silent tears escape while
seven men
seep
life, dry.