REFUGE IN FIRE
- May 8
- 1 min read
By Z-Louise Poetry
Despairing at the voices bouncing off walls and back to pierce my ears,
trumpeting Angels, Vibrational pipes,
A conveyor belt of noise and phrases on repeat,
Anguish and fire,
A harpooned mind caught in nets enraged,
Of provoking horrendous tongues,
I find refuge in the sharp steel blades,
Sawing motions back and forth,
Trying to numb the pain,
Yet I can’t stand the metallic red paint dripping,
The tightening of skin, Squeezing my soul out,
Evil laughter permeates the room,
The blade is too dull to end the noise,
I turn to the pretty pink match heads,
Striking out at fire, sizzling onto fresh pale skin,
Smouldering brown circles, making craters,
Each crater a symbol of fleeting silence,
The relief is immense if only for seconds,
I find refuge from the constant whispers,
Grouping together willing me to end my life,
I strike another match and watch the pink,
Burst into orange fiery flames,
Fires of freedom from the evil worms burrowing into my mind,
Maggots with teeth gnawing all too eagerly,
I make more circles on my skin,
It’s not a choreographed dance,
More of a stamping and sizzle,
The sizzle is now my refuge,
If the teething maggots were real,
I’d burn every single one,
I stopped striking matches at the sight of feet,
I look up to my sister’s eyes bewildered and wild,
She takes the matches away and calls for help,
A different kind of refuge finds me now.