he grows behind mirrors

By ruthless48

 she felt it
     like 
every time you turn and there is a staring face
     every goose bump
              every nape of neck standing up hair
that connects to an eye 
               when you are a child
     when you are alone in an alley
as she walked through the rooms
     mirrors
  most nearly casket height
       and closet width
   blankets of reflection
     stomach turning pinpricks of her nakedness exposed
               she shouldn't be ashamed of time with her husband
   but her senses warned
           her recollection tuned in
  when she could catalog clothing worn from shirt stripe to pant length
           before a man walked into the room
                             party favor trick
   was now  a divining rod of awareness
              for the deep well of  his sickness
  beneath the pool of water
                     melted on the walls
      then comments
                                                'i'll see you in a few minutes'
                          when no visitor arrived
            suggested positions
                              kama sutra
               one didn't have to be a detective 
                              to see beneath this neighbor's disguise
             morning after her mate's wineglass love
                     he came
                             to sit on her counter top, his hip nearly touching her bare shoulder
      money long since owed
                                             now paid?
                  'i don't want it'
              
              20           40                  69?


                          itwillbetornbeforespent

         so she waited
                             husband gone to work
                 twilight deeply set in

      old school room regulator clock chimes
                                                  grinds

            to lie there 

                      open



                                      feeling the old man watching

            anxious


                                    waiting

                                                                 growing




                        in anticipation



                        she writhed     

  
                                            arched in nightlight immaculate heart's glisten


                              pinpoints  sharpen  to ceiling spread


                   then swung white legs to bedside edge

                 
                                 ballerina temple tap to right cheekbone slide


           and then thrusting demon released anger to mirrored eyes

                      inches from his her eyes roll back green sparks
           

                                      hissing          
 
                                                  low growls



                                                             both middle fingers instant message




                                 the tornado of hate          and           


                                                                                  strength

                                       aeons 


                                            before


                                                                 darker  ones let 




                                 her use



                                        their power

  
                     they  called her

                                   
                                            bene gesserit



                    wires singed

                                                    lenses melted


                                       hands froze around their member

                 hair whitened


                                                        pulse stopped

               hours later 
                    long since cold
                              old woman finds her husband

                  no ambulance spinning lights can save 
                              his soul or reputation
                                      somewhere 

                                                 pulled down with his pants
                                                            running down his leg


 
            

                     






















           
  

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.
Copyright 2012 ruthless48
Published on Wednesday, August 29, 2012.     Filed under: "Horror" and "Poetry"

Author's Note:

wanted: studio apartment/no mirrors
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Comments on "he grows behind mirrors"

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  • SickSanityJenn On Thursday, February 13, 2014, SickSanityJenn (260)By person wrote:

    Spellbinding, I also read this over and over. Amazing talent

  • ruthless48 On Friday, February 14, 2014, ruthless48 (173)By person wrote:

    Thank you, SickSanityJenn! this was a piece that nearly wrote itself, while typing in the dark, to combine horror with beauty of words~thank you for the read and kind words

  • Dominic On Saturday, April 28, 2012, Dominic (54)By person wrote:

    Really creative syntax. Amazing piece - I keep reading it over.

  • ruthless48 On Saturday, April 28, 2012, ruthless48 (173)By person wrote:

    thank you, sincerely. guess it was worth hour & 1/2 sleep before work. somethings can only be written~ in the dark~

  • A former member wrote: That is...intense...a lot of pain in there...seems like the mirrors are described like coffin lids.. Very dark, delirious poetry. Loved the phrasing, kept reading the first set of lines over and over. The story woven into this work makes me feel sympathy to this "wife"... Poor wife DX And the end is a punch. Well done.

  • ruthless48 On Saturday, April 28, 2012, ruthless48 (173)By person wrote:

    humbled, thank you. this is one of those pieces that wrote itself, i was just the vessel until it reached you


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