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Recoil “Jezebel”





I always knew there was something not quite right about my sister


call it intuition if you will

a nagging suspicion that death is due to pay her a visit


or perhaps it already has


why else would her skin feel so icy cold to the touch


what other reason could there be for her aversion to light


for her tendency to act out her perversions solely at night


always behind closed doors

far away

from the pry of spies


sometimes i can hear sobbing from her room

but never once have i seen Lucy cry


she has the very blackest of eyes


they scare me if I’m honest


sometimes we used to play a game

to see who could stare for the longest


she always won


and every second i spend under her gaze

i come further undone


daring not to venture inside


not ready for the kind of truths that they testify


you see i still have my innocence

far too young for imprisonment


try to shrug off their suggestion

flat refuse to play participant



when i wake

the very first thing i can feel is

her stare


i open my sleepy eyes

and she’s already there


smiling her crooked smile

defiling first thoughts of the day


whispering her plans to
spirit me away


come inside dear

is the chant

but i can’t

i daren’t


fear i may never return


and this is no passing concern

no mere allusion

far more of a foregone conclusion


i have long since arrived at the deduction

that Lucy was raised from the

ashes of hell

set on a path of destruction


a paradox

a riddle

a black sheep in the herd of Christ


Gnashing teeth and waiting for the kill

no interest in playing nice


my dolls used to turn up missing

only to show up days later



every nerve that this struck

was promptly torn asunder and shredded


of course
i could never actually prove it was Lucy
dared not even try


sometimes it’s just better to turn a blind eye


after all
there had to be some reason for her wickedness


so i put it down to growing pains
the pre-fated loss of innocence


but how do you stand to lose something
that was never actually there in the first place


how does one start to explain the black stains on her bed sheets each morning


or the yawning gashes littering her spine


mother says nothing of Lucy’s soiled linen


as she laces her corset



it’s as though she is blind


or already resigned to the games of her unconscious mind


apparently she almost died during childbirth


and i reckon a part of her did

so i stuck close to my father like glue


it seemed he was far more likely to tell me the truth

when i came of age


he passed three weeks back now
it was sudden
no warning


yet i can’t shake this feeling within

that i’m the only one mourning


at the wake

Lucy took a moment to pay her respects


i looked her dead in the eyes

and have never once seen such contention


i am way beyond incomprehension


now i’m prisoner

in a house of ghosts


the shadows cackle

dead silence crackles

every floorboard seems in on the joke


creaking and shrieking intent to squeeze

to choke


the tree that taps at my window is poison of oak


and the walls

they close in

every time Lucy enters my chamber


that crooked smile that she flashes a most hollow disclaimer


come inside dear

is the chant

no i can’t

i daren’t


fear i may never return


fear it’s already too late

fear i’m already inside

fear i always have been

fear i always will be


why else would my skin feel so icy cold to the touch




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