HeLL

The Old Grovenstein House

Inspiration for "Left"

A new series of Poems inspired by very understated tramaus. This time, I also have a photo of the inspiration.

HeLL

May not be as bad
as the cricket
says, when the moon

forks and curtains
blow in blue
nights. Dad lurks,

stalks the halls
with a broken
bottle and sharp

pricks of shattered
words whispered.
“In heaven,” he grunts

between sips and deep
belches, “your skin
glows as sapphires,

and the Ixodes
stay hidden
beneath the floor

where they belong.”
He glugs whiskey
and the smell of brown

fucks the air around
your face. He yells
now. “You hear me

little Toad-bug?
Stay beneath
the floor, or I’ll

cut your MoM
in three blood
chunks and hang

her from her lips
by your
dOoR.”

Light fades to new
shades
of red. You see

Mom’s face, soft,
round, white
with brown eyes

of almond, knowing
dreams
will never come

again.

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One Response to “HeLL”

  1. Strong images, but very dark. It sends a shiver up one’s spine – but that’s to be complemented.

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