Seeing Things You Don't Mean To See

Let's squeeze this rotting rat and see if anything lovely comes out.

Glittering rubies are played out.

Fixated on death! On the gradual decay of all Beauty!

This place is for lovers, this place is where I shudder.

I am the least important person in my life.

Treat a stinger like a wishing well.

Prison!

baby that's just my imagination
over there
cowering in the corner
claws spread
reluctant

it's infuriating, the number of the lives you can change
without knowing it
without meaning to

the clock runs backward
into a brick wall

Release Me, Fear.

Alien

The Pure find you repulsive.
The Innocent are afraid of you.

You've stopped looking in mirrors a long time ago because, really, what is there to see?

When you're alone you're empty, when you're with others you're emptier.

You cannot love what you cannot stand.
And you've never understood yourself

Transit

Hey, there's a bus coming.
Get on it.

You're on the bus now, paying the fare.

It's dark outside, very dark.
The driver doesn't have a face.

It's cold on the bus, very cold.
You don't have a jacket.

You're sitting in the back.
Hug yourself.
It's so cold.

The bus is stopping, picking people up.
A dozen people get on the bus.

The new passengers don't have faces.
They sit down up front.
They turn around and watch you hug yourself.
The bus driver drives on.

If they had faces, they'd be laughing at you.
Try to ignore them.
Keep hugging yourself.
It's so cold inside and so dark outside.

The bus stops again.
Two people get on.
They don't have ears or noses or mouths or hair.
Only eyes.

They sit down next to you, one on each side.
They stare at you.
They watch you hug yourself.
They cry.
So cold.

The bus driver drives on.

You look out the window and watch the dark go by.
Your stop is coming up.
You signal the driver.

The bus slows to a stop and you stand up.
The passengers watch you walk toward the door.
Their faceless heads are hissing at you.

You get off.
You're standing inches from a deep pit in the earth.
Jump in.

You're falling, falling, falling.
It's warm and bright inside your mind.
You have a face and it smiles.
You're where you need to be.

Let Them Watch Over us

You'll have time to get reacquainted with your ghost.
The one that haunts you day and night: You'll learn what it wants.

Maybe you'll learn not to shudder when it tries to hold you.

I'll hear it in your voice.
I'll hear your acceptance of the dark, your new comfort in being plagued.

And I won't cry, because I'll be too busy staring at my own ghost, reminding it and myself that it can't hurt me, and I can't hurt it.