Mrs. Manifesto – A Dark Poem

in #poetry4 years ago


Oh how I love you

And your diseased tapestries hanging from your limbs.

So soft and vibrant in the decay

Of everything I know.

If I could unravel every strand

Of every dream that lies within the cloth held skin-tight,

I would fill my books with stories of all that lay inside.

They are your secrets.

Dirty little sweat-rags

That line the corners of your mind and soften them.

Aching thoughts of pins and chains and razors, though a part of you is drawn

To how they glint

So weightlessly in the spotlight.

They dance the waltz of nightmare silhouettes upon your hidden teeth.

Are you smiling?

I would kill to know, my love.

I lay you down on the bed - not to feel or tamper with your untold delights, but just to feel the dampness of your skin,

And the comfort in your flower-stem arms.

So drained of life,

Yet full of cozy memories.

One day, I just might carry you

Away to some distant land where they know our lingo. Talk our talk. Sing our songs.

Dance our daces.

But those lands are far, and I’ve only got so much time before they find out, my dear. For love is no circus, no moonlight serenade, but a dance.

A weightless float over the glass,

And glistening off your marble skin.

We shall dance until sunrise ‘till my head falls off,

And when I have nothing left but bones and dust.

But we shall stick together, and lie as one in our marble chest - staring up into the stars.

We shall be dancing in the heavens still…

But who am I to fantasize death?

No, for the time will come, and our hourglasses full as the wine bottle.

Still yet,

There is a burning in my gut,

Which tells me that this barricade

Needs to fall, as other hopes and dreams

Though this won’t be as sad.

I revisit the thought,

To pull those tapestries.

Won’t you let me?

Of course. What words are you to say?


So I start unravelling.

Watching the beige skin of your cranium peel back.

It feels s-oooo good my lovely,

You do not understand.

Unraveling, unwinding

And a steadily growing pile of skin rises all around you, dull and dying on the floor, until finally I may see

All the glory that you really are.

Shall I remove your head to start? Then all the other limbs, to see how they sit connected?

Or shall I lift you by the hips and feel you over. Would that be rude? For you to be so exposed?

Of course not! This world has no rules.

But actually…

I fancy a new desire,

A temptation which I’ve near forgot.

We must dance my love. Dance with your skin glistening and reflecting in the pond water, and may I kiss your hardened lips? You shall never weigh much, for I fear they’ve built you just for looks.

But I know the eyes that wait behind there,

And I know a smile the world cannot see.

Then we shall make love at midnight,

And when you’re satisfied I shall begin

To disassemble you to segments.

Just in time for our departing flight.

We shall take the plane to Nod,

And there will be no suspense like this, my love—

Though I fear what you have done,

And I’ve seen the looks of others,

For the inkling in my mind says:

I love plastic like no other.


For more like this, check out my book "A Man Upstairs," which hosts a collection of strange and unsettling poems:

Let me know what you thought—I'm always open to your feedback and suggestions. Sweet dreams, readers, I'll see you in the next one.

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