dynishka

There is no road back

I looked at that line on my hand again

One way only

A piece of ass for room and board

A blow job for spendin’ money

What does it matter anyway…

The lights on the drive home were all green

I should be mad, but I’m not

I think you’ll be sorry

You mimic me with disdain

Give it time. . .

Three drinks in

You’ll see when the lights turn red

and the sky is moonless

I dreamt of you last night, Papa

Why did you ever come around

I’ll always be a vapor to you

Your mother

Your sister

Your other daughter

All your woman

They get to have you

Me, I’m a vapor

You always said they needed you

That they could not survive

These years are hollow

Echoing

I do not deserve this

This orphanage has been cruel

Daddy, you’re cavalier

A killer

Sheets of crisp cotton over my head, the air thick as his mouth pushed against my belly, feelings of pleasure called me to my body from the ethers, sparkly waves running through me: Electric. Thoughts like mist covered me; pools of emotion broke the barrier into the moment.

Little seed

A heart

Under a sheet, dreams of being loved are possible, sweet things — like a flower just before the petals push out, or the wafting scent of ripeness in the air.

A veil

A layer of skin

The dirt

I started running that day, for the first time I knew what pleasure felt like, the void between hate and love is vast; the pains of germination do so call out for nourishment, of love and waters — all the days before had been lost: fallen. I knew that what I had was not what I wanted, that I could feel in other ways; that growth was the way out, somehow. Love is lightning, a penetrating force, and the heart — the heart is the most deceptive of all organs.

I could see his silhouette backlit from beneath the shroud; I didn’t want to seem awake for fear that he may stop. His hands so large against my frame, the warmth in which he touched me, my tender parts moistening from the thought of being wanted, from the press of his tongue. I could smell the alcohol upon his breath from his mouth to my nose under the sheet grave.

All my dreams of tomorrow lost under days, like a veil that I could just slightly see through.

Waiting

Wanting

Pushing

His touch freed me, it woke me up. With a moan I turned over onto my stomach, still pretending to be asleep, he flinched to see if I was gonna wake, his scruffiness against my soft yearning, barely able to contain the pleasure in which I was buried; A moan just under my breath escaped. He stopped. . . Silent. Dead still. I started to breathe heavily, he began again.

In my heart a dream was born that night, one of desire. A yearning for more than I had known, the desire was to be a path, an artery away from the hateful life given me — a returning vein to the heart of love, of life — My life. A lightning bolt.

Little things come from dark places, sprouting miraculous, an effort against the odds, survivals code imprinted, things that seem wrong in the light may not be in the dark, the idea of growth is more than a flowers aroma, its beauty skyward turned for all to see. Darkness just under the surface, below the sheet, where the light filters to a void of seen deeds. He took from me an innocence that night, in the dark. . . he also gave life to death, a seed in a casket.

There is a secret in the dirt, I know, I can feel it.

In the clarity of a sudden thought — an idea — I realized that what was happening was not right. I felt naughty for liking it, for having it, I felt responsible for pretending to sleep and letting it go on, yet, the desire in me pushed forward, towards the pleasure of his tongue, his illumination upon me in the lightless basement, under a shroud in the wee hours caused me to sprout.

What it is to want what cannot be had, to crave light in dark places, freedom from imprisonment? Little glimpses are dangerous things to the desperate. That night, before the shame and deluge of time that was to be endured: A spark set my heart ablaze. A bolt to the soul of a silent girl.

“I will live…” I muttered without realizing my thoughts were slipping through to the surface, from my lips, words of power came, an affirmation to fill the void of the days in the basement. He heard my waking and ran. Things under the surface churn, yet, are unseen, I was unseen until I made a peep from beneath the skin I lived in.

I was always there waiting

I have always been there waiting

Tears flowing down I lifted the sheet from my head and took in the fresh air. A sadness I had not known an hour earlier moistened my hardened exterior, that spark set fire to my soul as the breaking dawn crept in from the small cellar window, the color of fire and life, passion and consumption.

I could hear his footsteps as he tried to not make a noise in the other room, the cold damp basement floor gave him away, something in me longed to go to him, but I knew it was wrong, yet, it confused me; he was a family friend, one that always brought me gifts when he visited. I would fantasize about where he lived, a place with perfect presents for a girl like me, he was my St Nick, once a year bearing bobbles and sweet hugs, always a sparkle in his eyes. This was to be the last time I saw him. A dark gift is never all it seems. Fire from the heavens split straight through me, like the crimson light from the window to the floor, a beam of brilliance, a century flowers rare bloom, the beacon light pushed at my shell.

When I woke again he was gone.

“Last night Bjorn kissed me on my private parts, Papa.”

“Don’t ever tell a lie like that again, or I will knock you into tomorrow!”

This is when I started running away from the beatings and shame, the blood and pain.

A casket heart

Soggy seed

Blackened

I forgot about Bjorn, the days buried him and the memory until I stopped running. Still, I think of him fondly, his gift, the way a lick could mean love, or the vagrant ponderings on the sicker side of dirty deeds in the night. Who’s to say what’s right or wrong in the lost lands! In my garden, where I grew, it was desolate until he came. I, like a little seed in the dirt grew from the blackness.

Do you see my flower, crimson red, scent of darkness-

*The name Bjorn is fictional to maintain privacy for others involved.

You think I don’t notice the sideways glances at every girl worth a look on a dirty street
The auditory notables so well timed
Or your words like daggers

Spinning teacups on long sticks high above the concrete
Tiny fragments splattered about
Tears & spilt milk

I love you hard in well-lit dark places
All over loudly coming apart
Gluestick stuck stay

I find you dead in dreams
It seems as though I’m looking for something that is never to be found
Buckle me down, the way they did when I was young
There is more in that bag wiggling around, I see it
Hangman always in the way, grapes and vines
Stinging eyes never see, you know, dead in dreams
They take you away, you never speak
All wiggling around-

Sometimes I want to lie down in a field and let the grass grow over my weary days, to wake up in another time entangled tree roots and crocus bulbs. To let you all go as I close my eyes, that I may dream everything is as I see it, not this dark churning in my gut, or the tears that rained all these days on my walk to the park, where I shall leave a lash for a memory. My hands will reach to the worms, the embrace I so needed all these days, the marriage true. Sing me to sleep dark night, all I’ve ever known, all I have. The birds lie, feathers and fluff, but I wanted to hear them so sweet in the morning, so soft in my ear as the sun blinded me from seeing the way. Heavy clipped and fumbled, goddamn, I try to look into the sun; it’s not my place to burn like that. The fern will grow from my eyes, moss from my heart. I’ll lie in the grass and sink. You will feel the cool breeze when you walk by, and when I wake, I’ll see your flowers.

My clothes came off, I looked you in the eyes, all that’s there, just under the surface, your hands pushed me to the bed, my pussy became moist. Each time you thrust against me, the seal breaks again, and again. Blood to heal flows, the motion becomes frantic, then slow. I push you, you push back. My life peels away, layer, blood

Sometimes I stand naked in the parlor, you do not see me, sometimes. My winged love, under the surface. When the words peel away, you look to me, lost as the night calls. Still, I write these words with a sense of you hearing them, feeling them thrust against your layer, blood

Do you feel the seal break, or the blood flow

My winged words

A layer under

I wait

Always with the image of you walking towards me
Your icy stance barely conceals the fire within
You do not fool me with your burned past
it’s there, tender pink, iced

I love

For all that is unsaid
Your words lost
Burned away
gone

I live

In the small quiet moments
The times you reach for me
Fire shinning out, icy blue
Your heart open, tender pink

I stood sinking in the sand on the beach looking out upon the water
You floated by silver and blue flashes in my eyes
War, this is war

There are tiny fragments floating around you, when I breathe them in, I fly.
The particles have become me, they live here inside, they know when you’re near
because I feel this tingle in my belly, my eyes get big and pool upon seeing you.
Stop this madness and see me here holding your tiny fragments in shrine. Where did she cut you
so that I may put back the blood, my own to heal the festering. You’re poisoned against me for her crimes, yet, I paid my dues — what triumph is this, but a stabbed ghost.
I hear you, so cold under all that ice. My body grasping your limpness in the hall, so cold behind those eyes.
A million light years. All in a seconds death.

They say words possess power:
Shutup!
Bitch.
Drive the fucking car.
Stop.
Get over.
Didn’t you see that.
Your cooking is fair.
Straighten this place up.
Lap dances are just entertainment.
I SAID.
Where’s my.
You’re just the bang maid.
Why isn’t my hot chocolate made.

These are the words he says to me…

Just outside I hear them, like before…

All the love in all the lands spilled out in a furious flood,
the trees came up, root by root; the flowers lost their petals in the great deluge.

He never thought a thing of it as the cracking dryness parched below him became quenched in blood/love spilled by his careless talon pierce,
the cracks took it in fast, like rivers rushing away, gushing gone, the time and tears turned the sweet ripeness once beautiful, the fruits sticky and glistening –now rancid and rot — turned the sparkle sacred from the heavens, that star, fallen.

The birds sing a ditty, a dirge minor, so heavy the clouds steep in low, rendering no light in the land;
The eyes of all the people glow red as they lap up the ironwater, nothing is forever singing with the birds, the birds that leave when they don’t like it, the way it is, the dark moist and cold, the blood drained, the dead girl with a talon pierced heart.

Illusions like sex pound, grinding hard, relentless, then gone when the deed is done.

The birds see it from above and move in close for a touch of preymeat, freebies are rare as they sing, organ bits taste of mineral and iron, the birds sway on the branches. And the river flows.

They never take her heart, she never leaves the room of dirt and roots, it spilled in though, the blood.

A dream she had in the dark, a life never lived, yet murdered still.

The folks fed for days on the carcass, they made instruments and trinkets with the bones. They talked about it in sacrificial sing song – that river still flowed.

There is an ocean out there, like a hug, a sweet embrace, a whisper upon a gust; you can hear it too, if you listen when the night is darkest, she sees when you hear her call.

Meet me down there again

I’ll come all sparkly, a glistening star

You’ll know the time by the pinch of a digit hard

When you close your eyes it doesn’t matter, the details

the places, or people, the time

I go there every night just to see you

Flittering flight, flickering and floating

Starry sight, dreamy dreams

Down there I see you cleaned and new

Unstained and waiting

For me

For you

Stinging jab

You push

and push

Slippery hole

Bloodied brown

All that time

I let you dig

your dig

Organ bait

Hateful hollow

Stab me down

Little heartbeat

Murmurs come like stabs

With the promise to end it hard and fast

Always the threat of another go round

Wash it away a bit at a time

Slowly gone the sparkly parts

My crimes will see me to the grave

Dried and cold

Forever rotten

Forgotten

Like everyone else

A rhyme in the universe

A beat eternal

Gone from here

I’m on my way out to the far reaches

Expanding beyond your view Like a murmuration

My wings become millions of others

Millions of others

No matter how you slice it:

http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/concubine

But do you understand? he said from a shadowy doorway.

I think I do, sometimes the dark plays tricks on me.

Your eyes will adjust, don’t they always?

How does one go on from here, I’m dragging hard and my eyes haven’t seen a clean man yet.

All those days in the way down, you aint gots nothing` to worry bout now, this is the easy bit.

In burning fire, I see you dancing as a flame

Blue in the heart of orange

I sweat for you, at the edge of your heat — heart

You lick it from my breast, on my neck with a press

You take it from my skin, pale and soft

My heart like yours is blue

Is blue

You brutally turn in upon my skin

All that heat, my sweat

You, the burning flame

Hot and cool blue

Too

Too

Too

I am too

Burning Like you-