by Crys Silden



fear has a smell

like withdrawal

no color

intangible

like a wood worm

drilling into your brain

reckless imagination

dread on Sunday mornings

in a black bathroom

crank on counter

concealed from a lover

claustrophobic space

caterpillar without cocoon

wrapped in hair

kindness covers body

in scales and feathers

or hair

bevelled mirror

proving it

choose to lose

eating myself

drawn to monsters

white boys

good connections

immobile in the wake of fear

a view from the bottom of a well

smash

smack

destroy

run

run

run

carrying packages

bad mother-child

jesus

lying until eyes fall out

cat gobbles them up

moth eaten memory

grass needs cutting

the laundry room

the utility room

the landing

the rabbit hutch

the anatomy of want

blobby

endless washing

dishes

clothes

vegetables

babies

cunt

finishing

ne’er-do well to the bone

the never will be

black sun

terrifying family dinners

twisting the neck

of betrayal or loyalty

dog stands in the shower

longer than a marriage

you decide



Collage image of Crys Silden

BIO: Crys Silden writes poetry, personal essays and short stories. Crys has been published in Horror Sleaze Trash, Dadakuku, Don't Submit, In Parentheses, Versification, Stink Eye, Scab Magazine, The Pixelated Shroud and Azaroa Lit Journal. Crys is also a visual artist who has had shows in Toronto, Canada.

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a little closer to you

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three poems