bloggity blog, poetry

yours, my hell

I live exist in the house of nightmares

Reliving little horrors

skin re-torn

bruises re-blackened

I walk through the hall of mirrors

but the reflections are all different

Me the way you saw me

hideous, repulsive

Me with you at my back

knife at my throat

My eyes are not my eyes

They are yours, scowling oceans

My hands are not my hands

They are yours, balled up fists, open palm

My body is not my body

It is yours, my hell, your plaything

How do I get out?

Where is the fucking exit?

Trick doors and twisting turns

your face greets me on the other side

every time

Your mouth is a weapon

serrated blade teeth

pistol tongue

Danger signs painted vermillion

dripping and ignored

rocking floors

turning walls

glass smashes around my head

Knives stick out of walls

banging, crashing like gunfire

growled hateful words fill my ears

fill my head


calling for help

but I cannot reach the ropes

fingertips brush frayed edges

but I cannot hold on

How long can I be held under water before I drown?

I realised today, I don’t so much as love coffee but hate sleeping…


53 thoughts on “yours, my hell”

    1. Yep… my spiral is like a flame to a moth… but to be fair, my brain pushed me into my spiral today. I did not go willingly. I would love an island… fairy dust and happy thoughts… thank you, Wardy Muffins


      1. Yeah? They’re cheap, even ones that have a house on them. I’ve been looking into it for years.


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