snap

Edge of your seat folks!
More like edge of the bed
Live screaming
Live streaming tears
Talk about true horror
It’s so loud
Too loud
Round and round
Only the hammers of hell drown
They fade out the noise

Stop beating yourself! but how?
How when your brain hates you

Dredging up an old fleshy skeletons
And they snap snap snap
They snap and snap and
It laughs while I squirm
While I scream and plead
Snap snap snap
Beat my own fists
Against the floor
Forehead against the bones
But it’s all agony from there

Alone at 4:48 am and I can’t breathe
Shiver and shake like a fever seizure
Listen to a voice suggesting solutions
But antidepressants are not the answer
They don’t stop the nightmares;
The clawing for leverage
To keep myself from falling
The gasping for air to keep from drowning
The search for glue to keep from falling to pieces
Or the quicksilver pain that follows on waking

©MelanieMcCurdie2017

Cover by Jerry Winnett (a work still in progress) Coming soon to Fear Front Publishing

In the small burg of Skull Creek, a death is on the prowl. Some say it is a copycat killer, out for his moment of fame, but Jacqueline DePasse and her diligent crew of detectives soon learn that it is so much more than a tribute to the only known and convicted female serial killer in captivity. Cathleen Carson. DePasse, with the assistance of crime reporter Jake Michaels and her team, soon discover that one victim survived and she will be the key, the one who must Roll the Beautiful Bones and stop a killer before he strikes again.

dying in a drowning embrace

Passion burns and she gasps
Earthshake quivering over a rigid rising
when he pulls the pleasure from her belly
Rhythmic motion of riding the ocean sighs

He watches desire rise from her chest
It’s a tsunami of tangled bodies
Her cries rise like a bird in flight
Both clinging to love
like a life preserver
While dying in a drowning embrace


©MelanieMcCurdie2017

Rolling the Beautiful Bones – coming soon to Fear Front Publishing

Throwing Stones

Let’s throw stones, shall we?

No? You do already –

Now, hard as you can

Throw them into the water

Watch the impact

Smash the mirror image and

Make the ripple  a reality

The splash is arterial spray

or your own tears

And you killed it

Did it feel good?   Did you enjoy it?

Do it again

Again

DO  IT  AGAIN

Beat that voice in your head into silence

Throw stones and punches

Over and over til your arm hurts

Cause those ripples that destroy the reflection

The cold clear sky reflects like

A slight mist on the surface of hell

It’s too pretty

Throw more stones

Make it ugly

Make it hurt

Do it again

Again

AGAIN, DO IT AGAIN

Why?!

Scream, Curse the sky

Throw rage to the river

Let it drown

Do Nothing

Let it die

cry

 

Hitting Home

You couldn’t help yourself, could you?

Just had to have it your way,
ply and plead over poetry
and broken, useless promises

Pretty words meant to crack veneer,
like stones on a still frozen pond,
you just kept hammering it home

It did too, hit home, believe it
a punch to the solar plexus
a knee to the box would’ve been kinder

I’m still standing, though bleeding out
still breathing, despite the arrows

You couldn’t help yourself, again

I say it’s bullshit, and a cop out.

lie to your heart, repeatedly
So you can keep lying to mine

Spreading lye on the memories
That meant something to me is cruel

It makes it ugly and I see
Enough horror in the mirror

Reality bites and it leaves
Scars behind that will never fade
A fact that’ll hit home for you

too

©MelanieMcCurdie

17361645_10154941696185851_7293769770284919478_n

hEaD oN a StIcK

Sky eye blue tee
You see, because,
I feel less, well…
Alone in it

Bury my head
in the pillow
last kiss goodnight
and hope to sleep
before I cry

*It rarely works*

Pray, prey, for light
A direction
From whatever
Omnipotent Entity
Chooses to answer

The Universe
Provides the proof
That I am not
by myself in
yet another fight,

The same battle
That I don’t want
To fight anymore

I’m tired, I guess

If all else fails …
At least tonight …

I can threaten
people with my
head on a stick …

That might be fun
*shrug*

Home Fires Burning

Once i was home.

i was home to my family
my body housed life and suffered death
i lay in solitude, listening to him breath
listening to the quiet ticking of the clock.

it was Tuesday, late when
he staggered to our bed
still wearing that damned fedora
and her perfume
and nothing else

i was lonely, and miserable that night
crying in the dark with my eyes closed,
while he rode the waves of pleasure
and i could smell her all over him

i felt so small
my fingers tracing the scratches she left behind
when he came, it was inside me
calling her name and
it scalded like tears
when he rolled away,
murmuring her name again
as he drifted to sleep.

i lay alone, last Tuesday
shivering in the lightness room
in an effort to be silent, in mourning
i just wanted contact
i needed to be warm
i needed to feel something
other than the numb cold

stuck struggling with the knowledge
that he was elsewhere, often
wondering why i’m not enough
trapped here, while he snores

it is Tuesday evening, again
i pace the gleaming wooden floors
eyes on the clock on the mantel
eyes on the front door.
I made this hell a home

there are no children
to fill the empty hallways
the long empty days last forever
and when night falls,
the cobwebs flutter and
the ghosts flitter through
the in-between spaces

they dance and knock on the walls
sometimes they cast shadows on the glass
they become people with the endless chatter
endless opinions
endless questions
unable to grasp my sorrow
but with a solution

so today, I hid in the darkened parlour
choosing to stop the insistent fight
and let my sanity skip and slip
I drank champagne and ate oranges
danced barefoot on the thorny line
where my sanity capered and
cried until I laughed

i’m still laughing

he begs and pleads from the bed
wearing that stupid fedora

there, where I said my last goodbye
where I painted it with my tongue and
carved my name into his flesh
when he filled me with his tainted seed

the air is heavy
with the scent of fire, and ringing screams

Outside the sirens wail and
inside, he thrashes and writhes
burning in our bed

i watch him struggle
fingering the stem
of my champagne glass and
lift my other hand
placing it under my chin
in thought and reflection

then pull the trigger with a smile

The Statue of She

She sits in silence,

her eyes closed with a

sweet distracted smile on her lips

Oh, she pretends to blend in

with the crowd and fails

He says that she wasn’t meant to

but stand out like a glorious statue

in the middle of a war-torn slum

And she is so blissfully unaware

of the watchful, covetous stares

they do not register, only his does

At the mention of her name,

the sapphire lasers flicker open

blushing at being caught

with her mind wandering

Her eyes bore holes into his

with a flicker of laughter

embarrassed she looks away

with a sigh and a flush

Closing her pretty eyes again

as though her actions are

an invisibility cloak

He can’t understand how

she can’t see that she is beautiful

That insecure creature with a

masque crazy glued in place

She doesn’t understand that when

the masque lifts, and the

makeup is washed way

That she shines like the devil

dressed in Angel’s wings

©MelanieMcCurdie2017

Sometimes, when i’m alone/
almost by myself cos ghosts/
i wear pink with no makeup/
and let my hair go curly/
and pretend that i’m a warm/
blooded, a soft hearted girl/
instead of the cold minded/
all but invisible weirdo/
laying shrouded in bubbles/
adding salt to the water/
that is the truer image/
floating on the razors edge.

©MelanieMcCurdie2017

the chesterfield

I used to overflow

Sitting on a sofa
Chesterfield
Couch, whatever.

Thighs spilled over edges
Although not a lot
And my gut filled my lap
More than the kids ever did
Shortness of breath from walking
Down the street was more common
Than breathlessness for any other reason

Today I sat in the same place
On different furniture
In the corner and
I barely filled half of the cushion

Nothing to spill over
And there was room on my lap
for my bigger baby boy
And the mutt
Although not a lot

Having no air comes from
Beauty rather than fear of death
From lack of breath

Somehow, even with my hands
Resting on the new points
and jutting edges
And the image that the mirror shows
I still don’t feel like me

©MelanieMcCurdie2017

Splintered Petals

She sits quietly
Staring at her hands
Lost in thought
Her fingers writhe like snakes
Entangled and ensnared
Caught in her lap
Caught in her eye

She sits quietly
Staring at her hands
Her thoughts writhe like snakes
Entangled, ensnared
Caught in the word-trap
Caught in her sighs

She sits quietly
Staring at her hands
Her heart writhes like snakes
Entangled, ensnared
Choking on the words
The ones caught in her eyes

She sits quietly
Staring at her hands
The thoughts, words unspoken
Cannot be articulated, enunciated
Fear holds her captive
The madness is taking hold

She sits quietly
Staring at her hands
Lost in thought
She speaks in silences
Not a word she will speak
Since I cut out her tongue

©MelanieMcCurdie2017

Lullaby

She falls asleep to the sounds of gunfire
In the arms of chilly concrete
Alone in the ruins of a normal life
A four-year old Ancient weeps
She knows no life different
But dreams of so much more
A home, a warm meal, a family
In her sleep the angel smiles
The lives we live are so easy
Our struggle is heavenly to those with nothing
Yet we complain over small insignificant things
It’s time to wake up and smell the reality
Open your eyes and see
Those who feel you have nothing
Look closer and you’ll see
Reach  inside and find your humanity
It’s your lullaby
Lullaby, baby goodnight

She lays in bed struggling to breathe

Late at night she sits awake wondering
Worrying about the fate of her family
How they will go on when she’s gone
Misery loves company yet she’s alone
Unable to fight it she searches for peace
In cutting her skin she can see the light
With relief the angel smiles
Our lives are seem easy
The grass isn’t always greener
Struggle is agony to those in despair
It’s time to wake up and smell the reality
Open your eyes and you’ll see
Those who feel you have nothing
Look closer and you’ll see
Reach  inside and find your humanity
Lullaby, baby goodnight
It’s your lullaby
Baby Good Night
©MelanieMcCurdie2017
4630831821_1157x122

 Check out the fantastic authors at Fear Front Publishing – Click on the photo

Coming Soon to eBook and in paperback
Coming Soon to eBook and in paperback
Get your copy of The Hurt Chamber by Foggy McCorrigan
Get your copy of The Hurt Chamber by Foggy McCorrigan
Twisted Tales by Patti Beeton is available now
Twisted Tales by Patti Beeton is available now

Misery loves Company – A Love Story

I first saw her reflection in the shop window of that absurd little doll store.
The one on 5th and Main?

Tragically gorgeous in that B Movie kind of way,
I couldn’t take my eyes from her curves and edges.
The porcelain perfection of her complexion and those lips.
full and pouty – red in that almost garish porn star way.
But on her it was fresh cherries from the tree and
I was willing to bet that they tasted as good

And there I stood,
stunned into silence with my cock at full mast and
holding a half-naked children’s toy in my hand.
It felt like I was smiling but likely I was leering
and be goddamned if she didn’t return my lustful stare,
flicking her tongue out like some living thing
to taste the right of the lollipop she’d been playing with
before pushing it slowly between her wet looking lips.
She never dropped her eyes once.

I thought I had died, just then when she smiled at me and
called me forward with one black tipped finger.
And I came, then went to her with burning cheeks and
the front of my jeans beginning to show a dark spot.
I wanted to run but she put her hand over it
and put her mouth on mine.
I was sure I was in Hell but man it felt like Heaven.

When the shopkeeper cleared his throat,
she stopped licking my teeth to look at him,
with her hand squeezing my tortured dick.
Heaven.

She nodded and released me, whispering in my ear,
“come see me if you want company.”
Hell.

The man snickered and finally guffawed before
staring me soberly in the eyes and shaking his head.
“Take an old man’s advice,” he said,
lighting his match with a worn fingernail and holding it to his home rolled cigarette.
“She loves company. Don’t be her next conquest.”
I handed him the doll I’d ceased fondling
while embarrassingly thanking him for his sage advice and his time.
Turning to leave, I saw the most amazing thing in a small room off to the side.

Full sized dolls, dressed in 50’s clothing and
so realistic I laughed in spite of myself.
The shopkeeper chortled grimly, “remember what I said.”

I didn’t listen, of course.
I followed her home in my old green pickup
and watched her struggle with her playthings,
cursing and spitting vile and deviant admonishment.

It shocked me, intrigued me
so I jumped out of my truck and ran to her rescue
like some brain-dead Lancelot.
She smiled and kissed me full on my mouth and
pressed her firm breasts to my chest.
But all the while, I could hear the shopkeeper’s raspy words in my ears.

I wondered about how much company she kept.
I wondered what her name was.
I wondered how the old man knew.
All this as I stepped through her front door
That was forever ago, just before I discovered that I loved her.
My Captor, my Daemon. My wife.
And my questions were eventually answered in
far more detail than I care to remember.

Mustn’t frown!
She wants smiling happy people.

My father-in-law, you have already met, albeit briefly.
You really don’t want to make his acquaintance or hers,
because it’s like Pops, the Shopkeeper says, my wife,
Misery?

She loves company.

©MelanieMcCurdie2017

Vacant Rose

It’s easier in the dark.
Alone doesn’t feel quite so isolating
wet cheeks go unnoticed
Somehow, the bleakness seems a comfort
Not unlike a pair of warm arms.

She doesn’t know I’m watching
Lost in her rain cloud
I’m positive that she’d prefer an embrace
To the cold silence

There she sits
Cross-legged, nude,
Tragic beauty she cries, face in a pillow
The mirror covered in linen
I know she is wishing for the strength
For the courage set right the horror show
That she sees in the mirror reflection

But, much like me, she’s a coward
A loser done up on codeine and weed
Practically paralysed, poor thing
And all in an effort to achieve peace
Much like me, she’s achieving nothing close to it.
These are the nights I can’t help but hate
Because what other choice is there
I can hardly barge in, now can I?
Invading her misery by pulling her close
I want to take it away, if she’d let me
If I could,

Instead I watch her turn it inward
It’s a simpler method to live with
Mechanisms to emancipation
I write the steps to her freedom

It’s all about weights and measures
The balance is off
The telemetry is fucked
Knowing so doesn’t calm a racing heart
Or stop the tearing desire to howl

Soon, so soon, Impatience cries
I’m sick of waking each day
Gasping because I’m dying of suffocation
It all comes from bottling
The anticipation is agony

She rises, long and lean
Her lips rippling as she chants the same ugly litany
Telling herself;
It’s stupid to be in fear of nothing
idiotic to be afraid of long dead monsters
What are you, 12?
Trembling with like a child
No desire in the dark
Are you so desperate to be swept away?
Just take the pills and shut up

Pacing, bare flesh flashing
Her hair flies static
Staring out at the street below
Tonight its defenestration she battles

I know how she thinks
i know all this as well as I know my own heart
The idea of that beautiful body
Splattered like red velvet vomit
Horrified and aroused

Blood spilled spells oxygen.
The weight of biology is lifted
Swiftly slipping to press against the glass
She stares, pondering and
My temperature burns hotter
The daemon salivates,
Its venom fills my mouth
Such a glorious gluteus maximus
It calls my palms with a sirens wail
So long she’s teased me
Pleading for release from her glass tower
Tonight her prayers are answered
Blood is life.

I’m so tired of bleeding.
Now it’s her turn

©MelanieMcCurdie2017

a horrified shadow

If you have never felt hunger

a desperation so deep in your gut

that it gnaws at your bones and

it speaks in vernacular tongues

whispering to your pain addled brain

in the devil’s voice it denies,

tries to convince your starving stomach

that it doesn’t need that sustenance

then you have no right to tell me to be patient.  

 

It is devastating, to stand in the

refrigerator light sobbing,

in the open door of a food filled fridge and

know that there is not a damned thing in it

that you can ingest or imbibe

and there is nothing you can use

to fill that emptiness inside.

 

That experience

is enough

to destroy

anyone’s

mental wellbeing 

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©MelanieMcCurdie2017

Coming Soon to eBook and in paperback
Coming Soon to eBook and in paperback
Get your copy of The Hurt Chamber by Foggy McCorrigan
Get your copy of The Hurt Chamber by Foggy McCorrigan
Twisted Tales by Patti Beeton is available now
Twisted Tales by Patti Beeton is available now

tItHe AnD tImE

I was a good and faithful daughter.

I paid my tithe and I paid my time
and I paid my dues
I payed for my sins and
prayed for my soul
prayed for forgiveness
for sins I hadn’t committed yet
All because my ancestors
grandparents, my parents, did
because a man in a robe told me I should
I must, he said –
You must
Now your head and pray for forgiveness
Pray for your sins to be washed away
Pray for your eternal reward

Pray?
Pray to what?
To whom?
Pray to a God that professed
His Love
His devotion in return for mine
For His Forgiveness
But stood idly watching
Floated by on His Heavenly Perch
Waiting while I suffered
Like some Silent Stalkery Saviour
While I pled and pleaded

God,
Our Father.
My Father
Help me be a better person
Help him not be angry anymore
I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong
I know I deserve it but I don’t know why

Save Me
Please don’t forsake me
God Please Make It Stop
I’ll pray harder
I’ll Do Better
I’ll do anything
God, please

The mindless begging
Became a realisation that
I am and was my own God
My own Saviour

I Saved Me.
No one else did


©MelanieMcCurdie2017

Fair Warning

i’m not what i appear
i wish that i were able to be
strong or confident or assured of myself
truth is that in intimate gatherings
in smaller spaces and darker places
the likelihood of a typical initial response
is relatively high due to social programming
however, the effort expended to maintain in this manner
is slim to nil, or less
Fair Warning –  once you are in my eyes

i will never let you out of my sight

©MelanieMcCurdie

In the tub

The swirling soap draws designs in the water over my scarred knees
They looks like badly used shillelaghs
Maybe I’m a disease or
maybe I’ve something to displease
Her, He, They, My Maker

And begging
please
can’t You stop
please
Begging for any sort of respite
from the constant noise of
The bells inside my head
Is useless and moot anyway
Because it’s gong to happen-

I hate it.
I hate to cry because it’s physically painful and
I downright despise being watched
While I tear myself apart
In a losing battle to hold it together

I know I can’t be the only one
Who has ever cried in the tub
Away from prying ears and
Sceptical eyes

So why do I feel so damned alone?

©MelanieMcCurdie

it’s a title wave

I feel so sad

it’s a title wave –

a tsunami

and its becoming

more and more difficult

to hold back.

I’m not sure that

I want to any more,

hold back or

hold on

I’m not sure but

deep down inside

I just wonder why I’m here and

what purpose misery serves

in the grand scheme of things.

I wonder if it matters at all

and if it doesn’t, why I bother.

If it does,

then someone better give up the fucking punchline

because its exhausting to try to smile

when you are dying inside

©MelanieMcCurdie

Timpani drums

If you have never grieved,
If you have never denied
the finality of reality
If you have never felt the
Timpani drums of your heart
Pounding and screaming in your ears
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO
and felt the weight of Reaper’s
sad, lonely gaze on your soul
Then you have no business
telling somebody else
how to mourn

©MelanieMcCurdie