Chapter 1: Datura Pt. 1

Pouring rain; banging windows,
Clanging shutters; moving pantry doors,
Creaking wide open just for a peek,
Calling my name indefinitely,

I stand and look to the ceiling,
Abundant eyes staring back at me,
Flowers of flesh dripping into my pores,
Filling me with an utmost glee,

My legs snap backwards, walking aimlessly,
The back bends painfully; not even in control,
Diamond eyes below, gazing at my privates,
They yearn for unveiled primal screams,

Creatures loom within the mirrors,
I cannot even cry,
My toes fuse together,
Into unshapely hoofs,

They sing litanies of blubber
My headbox is on fire,
The man with the cowhead is clapping,
As white walls drip into seams,

A knock at the front door; I let them in,
Their teeth chatter, falling in disarray,

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Flying into my mouth, painfully stroking my gums,
The person contorts, crawling on all fours,

Gangly masses of animals walking out of their apartment doors,
A chicken’s head on a dog; two monkeys fused as one,

I pull tightly on the skin, from tissue to horns,
Reversing feet, such a gruesome delight to see,

Please don’t whisper so much to me,
I wish to eat underground,
How sad I feel in dancing,

Dancing on a porch for no one to see,

Do you hear the moaning in the basement?
Pipes muttering of a slaughter,
Or perhaps it was for pleasure,
A game of stretching your skin,

The corpulent man smells of butter,
Drinking from the body of another,
His eyes like that of a mannequin,
They tell me to run,

Running in the dark, cold streets,
My bare feet slipping on sharp glass,
How much can truly be enough?
I shiver, drinking more tea.

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