Circus Bait

Tumbling down, fear wrapped in shrapnel, thick with a feeling of permanence. Sequined clowns point and mock in nightmares older than the circus, or any freak to take the stage. Lights sway, lingering just long enough on the twisted faces of sticky fingered children. Dolls, eating popcorn, mechanic jaws, and jerky hunger. Out of time. … More Circus Bait

Pull…

We can undo the knot, that keeps it all in. You can walk away with it, still attached to the skin and I will unravel. Peel. Fray, and open up like a unbound flower. Allowed to breath from the first time. To breathe, and then to wilt, and fall limply to my knees, and you … More Pull…

D, for Douchebag

Admittedly I am a little shit. No denial there. My less endearing qualities being my ever cheery disposition and my temper. I ordinarily would let something like this go – but I am nominating a fellow writer for a Douche award. He is a brilliant writer – but he is an ass. He makes my … More D, for Douchebag

Don’t Fall

Look at me, in a way that makes me feel like you have ripped out my secrets and stored the bloody pieces in your pockets, proudly and with the intention of making them yours too. Touch me, in a way that makes me lean in, with out thinking. That makes me inhale you, like a … More Don’t Fall

Child’s Voice

When I was a young girl, I would wish I could be invisible, to the eyes that looked for me in the dark of night. My bed was not my imaginary princess castle; It was the  birth place for evil. A grown man’s twisted mind, my small body he did find. I was four. He … More Child’s Voice

By Virtue

“All of the truly important battles are waged within the self. ” ― Sheldon B. Kopp, If You Meet the Buddha on the Road, Kill Him: The Pilgrimage Of Psychotherapy Patients I have been blessed with a wild mind. A brittle constitution, and an appetite for truth. Impatience is my virtue, and possibly the only … More By Virtue

Chasing Demons

It is more convoluted, than just a throbbing demand for blood. It is more labyrinthine than simply knowing that I will stand, bloody faced and victorious, heart pounding against my rib cage. A reminder that the trophy blood that drips from my hands, is not mine. It belongs to one of the demons that has … More Chasing Demons

Would You?

If I leant back in this hard wooden chair, and willingly placed my wrists on the arms, and let you cable tie my hands to it’s frame; would you? Would you follow through? Would you help me forget? Would you whisper your apologies in between each blow, each cut, each laceration of my skin? Or … More Would You?