Friday, October 9, 2009

His Yelling Creeps Up My Spine Like Cockroaches

I awaken as the house shifts with the smell of Corona
leaking from my father's mouth
I shiver as his yelling creeps up my spine
like cockroaches prickling my skin
I tiptoe towards the hallway and peer at the door way below

The staircase trembles in panic
His leather boots SLAM on each step
His hand squeezes the banister, choking it
Snot runs from his nose as his tongue
licks the escaping victim back into his mouth

Scurrying away and hiding in my bedroom closet
knitted sweaters on wire hangers
wrap me in the warmth of lifeless arms
and pile on top of me
My ears burn with nervousness

He is in my room

tracing star patterns on blankets with a quivering finger
as he sluggishly pulls it back
to find me missing
Sweaters try to hush my anxiety
but his ears perk at their rustling

I am damp with unease as he throws
the closet door open and stumbles inside
The smell of Corona is a blanket of smoke
invading every part of me
His weight suffocates



ArtTales said...

Are things ok?

Pikithins said...

Yeah. Things are fine, just a poem to let feelings out =)