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Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

death in a doll house

as i write

.

death perpetually sits in

the corner of my room

reading freud’s conceits

.

or when he’s feeling particularly

mischievous

kafka

.

he is an old man now

as our time together is deep

smelling of camphor and whiskey

and cologne deemed a sin during biblical times

.

my constant companion

since the age of six

we have many times shared plastic play set high tea

and brushed barbie  hair

forced emily dickinson to eat bugs together

.

death in a doll house

.

he taught me long division

and later how to drive

bustled my prom dress

stood in the empty place

for the father daughter dance

at my halloween horror wedding

then sent me to mortuary college

.

how easily he became

my every electrified motivation

.

i so willingly devoured the

chocolate covered cherries

sugar-coated just for me

.

he has me hooked

on his sick sentimentality

.

luxuriating in the loss

agony so sweet upon the palate

injected into veins long desiccated

living in skin of unnatural colors

.

all i  wanted was a mommy in the kitchen

a daddy in the den

children in the treehouse

a reckless devil in hell

and a responsible god in heaven

.

so when it all died

i tried to become it

and i have failed

.

though i have receipts that reflect an attempt at a life lived

spanning the miles between California and New Jersey

.

today

he smiles at me wickedly

with his three good teeth

and says

.

remember baby girl

you will die

in the same place

you began

.

fearing unknown noises in the hall

.

right here

with

me

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