It’s an awkward situation to be in, sitting bareassed naked on the landing in the middle of the night
with my face in my hands.

I crept downstairs in silence, exhausted to the point of lunacy now four days into brutal week
of mostly sleepless nights.

And was morose but fine until I saw that fucking lit up tree covered in decorations and came apart.

The struggle to smile is a battle. My teeth feel stained and bloodied, my lips bruised from the verbal skirmishes.

These days. These days. Today, the struggle not to give in and to stay is a tougher one.

The guilt over even considering death as a viable solution to insomnia is almost as torturous as the desire.

It’s a battle I fight every day, but
I’m still here. I may be weak, in tears, torn as old butterfly wings, but I am here.



What I really need right now is
someone to sit and hear
listen to me babble.

The herbal life makes things smaller
easier to deal with but
I really need someone
who can love without judgement,
hear my words and help me
try to make some sense of it
of what is stuck in my head
it’s stuck in my heart
my throat is mocked, blocked
no sound I’m driven mute

It’s fury and passion
wrapped up in a cherry bomb
and stuffed in a pneumatic cannon
that’s aimed at my own reflection
I’m helpless to stop it on my own;

What I really need
right now
is someone
to just


Minus Cover final

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Faith Of The Faithless

Insecurity, a common killer
The inner criminal element
Straight outta serotonin motherfucker
None of that dopamine shit neither
That nasal whiny bitch’s tones
Nails across the chalkboard is sweeter
It keeps moaning shoulda, woulda, coulda
It’s an old and tired litany
But it drives the point home better than a hammer
Because it’s not about what I can’t change
But, instead…..what if I can’t –


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It’s not enough.

It’s not enough to sit and watch someone else’s fingers Plié et pirouette
Across the ivory landscapes
I want to dance and soar, fly too

Never enough ear candy to slake
That hunger, the consuming need
To sit down and pour notes from my hands
They ache for the cool keys

Vampires craving blood couldn’t be more ravenous
When Gershwin cries his Rhapsody
My heart cries from the anguish
Of not being able to comply

I want to fly, again.





Feel it lick at the edges
My skin a fury
The internal debate
Exquisite pain as I burn
Eyes the igniter
Surface reflecting a deeper yearning
A blowtorch to the chill, the knowing


Cravings intensify, temptation tremors
They double, treble
Blown apart as they depart
None stand before strength
Of mind, as it faces desire
I weep in its presence
Warm to the touch, it incinerates
It destroys as it adores
Endures, never absent


Heart blackened, iridescent as the raven’s wing,
It joyfully roars, freedom rings
I drift to peaceful, peaceable dreams
Safe in the knowledge
I can overcome,
Even filled with flames
I smoulder as I turn to ash




Dandelion Fluff

A shooting star across the black
Make a wish you bid me
I close my eyes and say I wish I could

Stay with you forever in this bed of leaves
Under darkened skies

The midnight creatures rustling around us
Eerie footsteps pass us by

While dandelion fluff
Floats above my head from the seeds you blow 

A dusty halo say you and I laugh
For my dark angel you say a
nd I smile,
At the sun in your eyes
All that is perfection
Is right in this moment
As I lay with you in this bed of leaves

Black Orchid

Draped like breathing silk

Ivory skin, ivory keys

Raven tresses decoration

Play me, she whispers

Eyes averted, nervous

Black Orchid

No shrinking violet, she shivers

Speak her name

Watch her fracture, smile

A heady concoction

Igneous she burns

Your hand, Eruption

Detonation: Ground Zero

Her eyes




The Message

The skulls waver in whispery rattles

Dead snapdragons along the white picket fence, speckled

Dusted here and there with a garish red that could only be real

I can hear her in there struggling, fighting to breath and survive me

I admire her commitment, truly I do

But it’s all in vein, all over the floor…she lays living near the door


And I sit smoking another joint, bloody and naked

In plain sight of the surveillance camera at the gas station across the street

Knowing full well it can see me, I spread my long legs wide

Exposing my intimate place to the world and making good use of my fingers

Stroke myself off slow then fast, bringing a sober and joyless orgasm flooding

A slight breeze in the face of gale winds, euphoria and elevation reached

Legs slam shut, roach stored for later and I sigh


Inside, my lover awaits, bound to a chair

At his feet, as before a King she lays trying as she lays dying

His expression torn between lust and desire arousal evident as he squirms in his bonds

Horrified as I dispatch her quickly and am engulfed in her sticky discharge

It tastes salty and hot, coating my face, dripping thickly down my breasts


In his restraints, he became a beast, roaring in anger and mewling in pain

Groaning around the ballgag I straddle his lap and sink his cock deep

Rocking my hips and scratching my nails across his chest,

It doesn’t take long before he’s ready

Growing larger still as he strains, head thrown back and gag slick with spit

I slice his throat, the skin rolling back, a secondary orgasm he cums blood

Open mouthed, splattering and gurgling


They’ll find him there, till in his chair, still in his throes

Death and pleasure, I left him naked

Her resting at his feet like a sacrificial lamb

His tongue shoved deep in her snatch

His flaccid shrivelled dick in her mouth

Rope removed, a note nailed to his chest

I missed a few times leaving embedded marks

Like the last one




Angel I am not.

It’s just your angle of reflection

A momentary human disconnection

You caught me in a moment

Of unselfconscious distraction

Internal sunshine creates

  A flexion connection

I was lost in internal dissection

Of my own imperfections

My own swan song tuneless

I got lost in introspection


Now think what you will

A predilection of distraction

The eternal equations battle

Resurrection or rejection

We fight the implication of perfection

Mirrors lie all the time

And beauty is but an advection

A pretty painted masque

Just means to ply the nature of attraction

With no intent to learn what lies inside




Melanie McCurdie

Slayful Stories Volume 1 is now available for Kindle and in paperback



Do you really expect me to still be the person I was?  How is that possible? The years change everyone, be a little or a lot everyone changes. As we age we become less naive,harder, cynical even. It wasn’t something that we plan on. Certainly it’s not something I planned on way back when the world was open to me and my path was clear. Life at 44 is so much different from it was at 18, looking back, well what’s the point?   The past is the past for a reason. It’s behind us for purpose.


If we don’t know the past well enough we are doomed to repeat it in the future. I don’t think that any one of us that can look back and say we didn’t know we were repeating  ourselves. There is not one of us that can’t say we broke the circle, broke the cycle, some point in our lives and made a new path. Sometimes it’s hard to let go of all those things that hurt us. We learned from them, all too well in some cases. We learn to shut that door, nail it shut, then torture  ourselves by watching from afar, because we can’t bear to be hurt again. Until we get hurt again and again. So I ask, how can I be expected to be the same person I was?

Realization is like plastic surgery. You’re peeling away layers and changing the way you appear to yourself. And it  hurts, while it heals, the knives that you use to exercise those marks on your heart may leave bigger scars, but least  it’s cathartic. Lessons leave their own marks. Wrinkles on the soul, wrinkles around the eyes, it’s just the way Time leaves its reminders.

Soon enough we add another year to the calendar. I’ll be glad for it to be honest. This has been the most confusing  year of my life, and in some ways I want to hold onto it, but in the biggest way I want to kick in the balls and burn  it alive. The best year and the worst year and still one I would torture myself to live again. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t  change much, but I would make space for expansion.

Shoulda, coulda, woulda. I have few regrets, and most of that comes in the form of memories. Aching memories that  have no resolution and never can, out of pride or spite I can’t say. It’s funny how we think that if we could go back in  time we could change who we become. There’s really only one piece of advice I would give my younger self, and that’s  for her ears only. Go talk to your own younger self.

Thanks for the ear. Can I buy you a drink?


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Such savoir faire

I stare



unable to help myself.

That’s how you like it

Your romantic nature belies


Softens the suspicion while

Your smile cuts like a knife

You monster

I like it too

It’s déjà vu

Not like meeting My Monster,

or the Devil

They can’t compete or compare.

In my eyes

nothing hurts so exquisitely well



as the


that is



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What a surprise
The harridan cries in my eyes
In my head, no surprise
She despises the air that I breathe
Suffering her pitiless pithy phrases
Sardonic bitch, her thoughts leave scars
Open wounds that fill and shimmer
But never bleed, every action replay
She hands me the knife
She holds my hand while I carve
Praying for someone to save me
No one will come
Pray no more, God is dead
I still live to suffer the cuts
The fractures in my mask widen
Wrinkles mark time and I am age’d
Too young to be so old and empty
I keep saying it can’t be but really,
Honestly, tonight
I would welcome Death
As a viable scapegoat
A welcome partner
As I search for relief
For someone to just

Harridan sighs
Spits on the blade
She coats it in reasons
Same old seasons that drag on
She hates me, I know
The marks tell the tale
Still her bite is more comfortable
Than the poison I feed myself.


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And she knows

She knows
I’ve told her the way I feel
Time has passed,
I’ve changed, she says
And I believe her
I can see her as I knew her
That happens between decades
It happens, sometimes
But my feelings haven’t changed
I’m not what I used to be
I’ve changed for the better
No longer battered by beer and late nights
The strings I once played
Are dust in the wind
The kid I once was is dust in her eyes
When I tell her that I love her
And she says knows