(Sc)avenger

second-hand girl,
how brave she must be
to face her enemies
hands bound behind her back
a rusty lantern levitating before her
setting her eyes ablaze.
don’t let the halo fool you.
She’s no martyr
nor saint
She’s not heaven sent
or divinely gifted.
she will not knock on your door
and ask your permission
she will make you
pour holy water into her wounds
while screaming in ecstasy,
stretching her hands up to heaven.

she doesn’t believe in god
she doesn’t believe in justice.
she falls asleep fantasizing about self harm
wrists that are opened and then sewn back together
she makes up these scenarios
not as a means of inflicting damage
but as a road to retribution

too long she’s been pushed aside
chopped into pieces and carefully sealed into
thrift shop bags
who wants to buy a sexy, self-destructive no-girl?
who would like to buy an unfinished sentence
echoing into eternity?
this time, she won’t be the hog
tucked in the bag
but the one selling
this is all of me
watch me burn
cast your incantations
fire to smoke to embers to dust
the desire to change is eternal

Gl||tch

 

Sometimes, I accidentally fall
trough the pavement
underneath bundles of clingy vines, cigarette butts and
petrified fossils of chewing gum
the world below is still
ever resting
but trough the moving sky
and the electrified clouds
I can still hear the screams
of children being pulled into adulthood
threads ripping,
women cutting their skin open
and quietly dripping glue into the wounds
at 4 am beneath the kitchen table
Someone told me this was real
This,
a lifetime long wait
at a desolate train station
with nothing but the distorted laughter
of bloated rats to comfort me
I shook my head
nothing makes sense
and the train
won’t stop for me
I’m invisible, caught in between the platforms
like a badly coded game character
in an endless bug loop
wave. stare. and smile?
repeat my assigned lines
Hello would you like some assistance?
hello hello,.
It’s time to reset
to be reduced into a noise,
a random code segment floating around
between bliss and agony
screaming eternally
into the muffling hand of god

Teratophilia

My latest poem up on Sudden Denouement, along with my drawing. Check it out!

Sudden Denouement Literary Collective

18083774_1399831520109623_1963768446_o Drawing (c) Malicia Frost // Henna Sjöblom

I never wanted your understanding
All I need is a mouth
someone who roars louder than me
someone who grabs first and asks not
whether I’m enjoying it
to block out
my own desires
I have chosen to love the monster
I did not ask for it,
still
I think I’m quite comfortable in here

Being bitten is painful and familiar
I collect his teeth as trophies
like soldiers stacking bullets around their necks
like we used to compare our scars
in middle school
“I think he’s getting more violent,” you whispered
and shivered in terror and ecstasy
over the thought of getting torn apart
at the dinner table that night

Now,
my skin has become a topographic map of wars
that were never recorded in history
My anxious fingers wander up to his jawline
and starts deciphering
where the next impact will…

View original post 107 more words

Wardrobe

Let me show you my new dress.

It was cheap.
A disposable
wear and tear-article,
patchwork of crushed hopes
belonging to some little child
in a factory
you made this for me?
thank you!
truly!
now I can stand here, in the roaring crowd
at the eye of the town square
tiptoeing all over the sharp stones of existence
showcasing just how normal, stuck-up and
indifferent I am

But then I bled trough.
It happened quickly.
I didn’t even notice the tear in the fabric
until some kid pointed at my stomach and laughed.
“Look! She’s wounded! She can’t even walk!”
his mother hushed him, dragging him away from me
“We need to be grateful for all we have,” she said.

I scurried home,
tears pouring down my cheeks
I locked myself in my bedroom and spent the rest of the day
wrapping myself up in linens
layer after woven layer,
would cover the fanged hole in me
and stop it from leaking
“Tomorrow,” I whispered to myself, “tomorrow I’ll be prepared.”

It all started out well
I was gliding trough the polished city streets
earning compliments on my exterior,
someone told me they wanted to take me home
slit my throat and fuck my corpse.
I shrugged.
what do words mean anyway
An old woman came up to me and asked
just how I’d managed to become
so admirably ignorant
I smiled
and was about to start explaining the basics of apathy
when I felt the fabric around my hips starting to melt
and the familiar scent of smoke
from underneath my skin
oh, why does everything dissolve like tendrils
like hot wax,
clogging my veins?
Now I am become transparent
the destroyer of contemporary fashion.
with nothing at all to cover my shame
I try out another shirt,
clothe myself in layer after layer,
each one adapting the shape of the previous
there’s no escape
cotton walls are like a bomb ticking around my waist,
reminding me of how much time I have left.
How thick would you like your armor today, Sir?
Make it wool,
make it silk,
or glimmering marble,
so I can be a statue,
a work of art.
Critics can stare,
nod, and pretend they understand what’s going on
as I’m standing naked on the town plaza
wearing the face
of everyone.

The Weyward Sisters: Songs of Ophelia A Collaboration from the Women of Sudden Denouement

Showcasing this proud, collaborative poem with my kick-ass sisters from SD.

Sudden Denouement Literary Collective

you must remember

rosemary, pansies, fennel,

columbine and rue,

You forgot tansy, didn’t you?

When the ground freezes over

And your flowers crumble and brown

Let the ice in Hamlet’s Heart

And the Red on his hands

Deliver him forever from you.

And when you return again

From your journey to the sea

Never forget

It is you.

It was never he.

Rana Kelly/2nd star to the Left, straight on ’til morning

I sat and watched the current roll by today

I think I’d like to float away to a place that I cannot say

You were always directing the rivers flow

I trusted you knew where it would go

But you let me go adrift

Dream chaser isn’t that what you always said?

You’re where the love has always been

Dream chaser dream chaser

don’t mock me now

Its not always the same

You will find me in this…

View original post 374 more words

Slut

I took his saliva and distributed it evenly
over my soaring wounds
I was a harlot again
filthy consolation girl throwing my skin off
for anyone who as much as touched me

But they couldn’t know
what was going on behind my shut eyelids
They didn’t know of the man following me everywhere
Sitting on my shoulders
Sucking on my bruises

They didn’t know he was cruel
they never heard him yell into their heads
things they only speak of in hell
or lower elementary school

Neither could they know
our battle was a long fought one
while he built towers for me
I would sit there
like some fucking Rapunzel, awaiting a savior
or maybe just a momentary relief
a rough canoodle
behind the labyrinth of thorns
the moment
someone would come up to me and say
“hey. I like the things you do”
I would be stunned
over how they dared to challenge this monster
whose bare apparition would have turned the noblest knight around
there are, in all honesty, some battles
better left unfought
but I would look up at them and their face would beam
and it was then it hit me
that they couldn’t see him
they didn’t know they’d just stepped up and thrown a rock into a volcano. They didn’t know the glimmering light in which they appeared to be illuminated.

They thought I knew all of this.

I don’t.

Battle of Boredom – Malicia Frost

Sharing my latest contribution to Sudden Denouement Literary Collective, which I’m honored to be a part of. Read it here!

Sudden Denouement Literary Collective

e61c252f7534511dsource

There was a war that day
indisputably
although, nobody talked about it
you would see them walking by a little faster
their funny hats tilting from side to side
Sometimes the sky would shatter above us
And bleed neon blue
the drains would flood
the cats drown in screeches
what good is having nine lives
if you don’t know how to stay afloat

People are all the same
Everyone would unfold their umbrellas
Hoping for the weather to clear
The shards of metal and from the air
they stay cramped in their corners
watching their toes rot away from the humidity

Under-dressed little girl
strutting about, singing
dead men can walk
madness her name
lost her little mind
in the deluge
the acid raindrops
digging trough her temples
like a poem
and when the streets eventually dried up
she would be found crying
in the sewer
bent over the…

View original post 108 more words