KNOCK KNOCK ANXIETY

By Zenobia

She got me. Again.

I was resting in the black peace of fleeting dreams, but

with no face of porous flesh –

no soft, slick spleen –

no burgundy blood beating –

her crushing blades of sharpened teeth

came in hungry and biting.

Knock Knock –

was her rapture without pause,

she just tip, tip, tipped right in.

I was a crumbling sepulcher

unable to move

unable to breathe, but

I could feel her creep.

My lips parted an ode, a hemorrhaging plea-

spewed cries that soaked the satin pillowcase.

She placed her hand upon my breast-

(I never knew my heart

could s w e l l like this…)

A choke! A muffle! A gasp!

She took my breath a w a y.

This time, I’m fighting back,

my bittersweet succubus;

though I eventually succumb,

under the weight of her hips.

I know her, too well and she knows my plans for resistance.

I am panicking. She keeps returning, foaming ribbons of the sea,

she must like the way it feels, inside of me.

I scream under the loud silence of a blank faced moon.

Mirror, mirror, my velvet soul interior

my own reflection is staring back at me.

my own of porous flesh –

soft, slick spleen–

burgundy blood beating–

She comes from that shadowed corner, an invisible place of my own being.

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