Tag: "All Her Little Horrors" series

Blood And Blasphemy

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When my blood finally mixes with the last bits of blasphemy in your voice,

The faux gods will sing to our glory and the heavens will rejoice.

When your grip on my throat finally eases and my final string snaps,

They will be picking up pieces, gluing together shreds and scraps.

When the wind gets blown out of my lungs as you finally cut me free,

They will chase us through the darkest roads, trying to kill the fantasy.

And when my tongue finally grows back its blades and cuts open your neck,

They will cheer for me in pure fear until all that is left behind is a wreck.

When my skeleton will finally collapse on itself like some ancient ruins,

They will whisper wicked words beneath their breaths about spiteful humans.

But when the worms finally eat my rotting flesh, I will sigh in disbelief,

Cursing your name and their false wisdoms on blood and blasphemy.

-Jackie

Underneath

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There are eyeballs in my coffee,

And they wink whenever I smile.

Those eyes, they tell me they love me,

Then bleed out on my kitchen tiles.

There are tongues on the city pavement,

But I guess you have never noticed.

Be careful making your statements

Because they do not lose their focus.

There are ribcages between us,

And I am working to unlock mine.

Foolish books tell me words about Venus,

But I know that the key is time.

There are shards in the air you breathe,

So be cautious when you speak.

They will hurt your gums and your teeth,

Will rip your skin and slide underneath.

-Jackie

Late Night Taxis

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I’ve taken at least a dozen taxes home last week,

And, god, I’ve cried in every single one,

I’ve cried until I couldn’t breathe.

The drivers never notice my running mascara,

They just take me through the frozen city

As my mouth feels drier than The Sahara.

But the city stares at me, begging me to stop,

I hear it moving around me awkwardly,

Growing more annoyed with every teardrop.

I wish I could say things like “this is the last time”

Or “this is the last son I take”,

Yet, the hell is wide open for my crimes.

So, I carry on, I’ve signed the contract already.

Each night I walk the darkest streets,

Looking for someone rude or unsteady.

I breathe in the heavy winter air as I approach,

And the blade in my pocket smirks.

It’s my partner, it’s my coach.

Once I’m done, the old buildings judge me,

But as long as I don’t leave any witnesses,

Their sorrows don’t cost me money.

So, I’ll just take another taxi home tomorrow,

And the city will have to deal with the fact

That my prey is stolen, not borrowed.

-Jackie

The Chosen

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The lump in my throat feels like an anchor now

With its heavy edges drowning me in your waters.

Two hours ago, you told me you were proud,

But we are once again back at cursing my father.

I did not mean to say that you two are alike,

I did not even mean to utter a syllable.

Now you are cussing at the cutlery, picking a fight,

Calling me cold and calling me cynical.

You brought me chamomile tea to make it better,

And we drank in silence as you calmed down.

It was way too hot and a little too bitter,

But you have already robbed me of my ivory crown –

So, I drank as I tried to make my heart slow a bit,

Wondering about why the house was so damn quiet.

I looked at you, but you just told me to sit.

“Aren’t you done with planning your riots?”

The room started spinning as my throat ached,

And I begged for water as you washed the cups.

So serene and steady, you knew the stakes.

You ensured that I suffer, then called the cops.

The lump in my throat feels like an anchor again

With its heavy edges drowning me in your poison.

I hope it gets cured by the graveyard rain,

And I hope I was the last to ever be chosen.

-Jackie

All Her Little Horrors

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All her little horrors will eat her soul alive,

All her little fantasies will make her a terrible bride.

Still, she will try to convince them that her hurt is real,

But they will throw her away like a banana peel.

All her little stories will dry out her charms,

All her little narratives will only bring fear and harm.

Yet, she will never listen to their friendly warnings,

She will hiss at every stranger who ever calls her “darling”.

All her little rumors will set her fate on fire,

All her little truths will grow into fake guns for hire.

But she will bleed red until they drain her out,

And only once she passes, they will care about the shouts.

-Jackie

My Final Sacrifice

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Carry me in your arms until you cannot go any further,

Put me down on your altar like a gift to the gods.

Let them consume me in the name of their holiest father,

And let them use my spine as a lightning rod.

Watch me being sliced into thin pieces and whispers,

Cover your eyes when it gets way too gory.

When they turn my dull eyes into buttons that glisten,

Please let them do it all and never feel sorry.

Once they are done wasting my body and my purpose,

Carry every part they leave behind to the forest.

Put me down beside the fire, in the middle of the circle,

And hum your favorite song, hum the chorus.

Do not look up as I crawl out of the dust.

Each piece they robbed me of will only add to my power.

Let them know I persevered their greed and their lust,

Let them know they will die at the next witching hour.

-Jackie

In Vengeance and Bloodlust

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Those furious dogs are out there to finally get me,

The dogs are out to finally chase me down.

I would run away if you just let me,

But you chain me up and paint me like a clown.

You run your dirty fingers through my hair,

And I try to escape, but you make me take it.

All those words I said about you not being fair,

They disappear as soon as I just fake it.

Those hungry wolves are coming closer each day,

The wolves are there to eat my lean bones.

I would feed them, I would take them out to play,

But you tie me down, empty and alone.

You only ever see me when the sun dies.

I am noticing that you always look away,

And I wonder if you remember the lullabies

That you sung in a voice of somebody who prays.

Those vengeful gods are after me, and you know it.

No, you cannot make me your saint forever.

Let me fall from grace, yes, let me blow it,

Let me show them that a fiend can be clever.

You put me on a pedestal when I was shunned,

And you hid me even after knowing I was guilty.

But now all the hymns, they have been hummed,

And if you stay behind me, you are twice as filthy.

Because those furious dogs are out there to bite me,

The dogs are out to finally chase me down.

So, I pick up my blades and ask them to fight me

As I slowly turn into a wicked hound.

-Jackie

The Bloody Vail

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They covered all the mirrors in my room,

But I still recall us dancing, looking back at our youth,

A picture crisper than an apple, a bride and a groom

Getting drunk on love and some cheap vermouth.

They opened all the windows in our house,

And I pulled down the curtains, wreaking havoc.

They blew out the candles, buttoned up my blouse,

Sung to me gently as I listened to the traffic.

They put on their finest black gowns.

I tried to convince them – this is not the occasion.

His family drove over from the other town,

And their tears reeked of a ruined vacation.

They stood around me like it was a ritual,

Petting my hair and giving me long gone flowers.

It is funny how some view death as habitual,

“What human creates, the God devours.”

They all looked at him with pity and pain,

Ceremonially cussing out life and its violence.

They did not even notice my bloody vail

Or how his bruised palms made me forever silent.

-Jackie

I Bet

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Anonymous mysterious ghost woman standing in dark forest at night
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I bet you did not even notice the creeping voice inside of my skull,

The mind control device behind me with its volume set to null.

I bet my eyes looked happy though, and I bet the laughter charmed you.

The emptiness behind my pupils, baby, it would never harm you.

I bet the red tint on my chapped lips seemed just like a high-end gloss,

Not the blood of those we bury six feet under, below the moss.

I bet the papers will turn my story into a movie the very next morning,

The reporters will deny the fact that I was hurt, that I was mourning.

I bet they will involve my family, and they will offer weak apologies,

And within a minute or less they will come up with a faux eulogy.

I bet it will never cross their minds, I bet they will not even bother,

They will bury my dreams and hopes until I am fully smothered.

I bet my death will feel like a victory to their constantly greying bones,

I bet they knew all along that I cursed them

To carry their crosses all alone.

-Jackie

The Follower

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I remember playing my piano a little too loud that gray evening,

And I remember singing along to every song about pain and grieving.

The snowflakes danced into my room with their frozen smirks,

But the cold spared me as the night came to be just like clockwork.

All the candles on the windowsill swayed along to my lyrics.

Still, the stars blinked distantly like some world-renowned cynics.

And I do not remember hearing you enter my tiny apartment,

Looking like imminent death, ready to finish what has been started.

Your boots left wet and guilty footprints on my beige floors,

You smashed the mirror on my closet, the one I have always adored.

I knew that you looked familiar, and god knows – I remembered

Your face popping up everywhere I went since the last December.

The grin and your bloodshot eyes said it all, but I acted confused,

Like I have never noticed you, never heard you calling me a muse.

“Let me amuse you,” you said while approaching me awfully slowly,

Knowing far too well I am the furthest thing from someone holy.

I remember taking the candles to the curtains, lighting them up,

And I remember you protesting, weakly trying to interrupt.

The wind fanned the flames and they roared with unrestrainable force,

But the heat spared me while it made your voice fragile and hoarse.

With smoke in your eyes, you ran right into my fuming trap.

I pushed you right into the fire, and the flames ran in laps.

The yellow, red, and orange consumed you in a matter of moments.

I really wonder if you ever noticed all the bad luck omens.

-Jackie