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War Torn

Beware they tell you upon entering a war torn country it is twisted and strange not to mention the twisted braids of bodies knotted to each other like bits of bloody ribbon tied together and the strange silence of the afflicted who look at you tranquilly as their arm dangles by its veins but I acquainted myself with disbelief for I saw thin, but alive children tussling among the sands stark feet smacking the land like heartbeats chasing after a ball of some sort in play dust and earth rising in clouds around their dancing bodies as dirt caked their cheeks like war stripes I made my way to a small child who was about to kick the object to a goal and thought that the tragedy of civil war was nothing but a false front but my taste of conflict turned out to be as small as the children's bones which clacked together like bells when they ran for when I looked down at the feet of the children their feet were saturated with strange things such as blood one child's fo...

Sufferers

I live in a white noise static air world buzzing with numbness and trite chatter And among the hums I am a martyr for feeling actively devoted to the sun-ish feeling in your chest when you love an addict to embracing pain and refraining to brush away tears I am a single trill an emission just a half-note above the original chord I am the Polycarp of feeling when the fire fails to touch me I am the sacrificed and I make no apologies. -anna sluder

Perception of a Victim

I bit my tongue until it bled Then balled it up like a wad of paper Rolling it around in my mouth like a marble I tried to choke it down But I gagged and coughed it back up So I stitched myself together And formed words instead of fear And I whispered, "I was raped." His eyes were cold and unforgiving Yet impinging upon me like the rapist's hands No, he didn't offer even empty pity or offer help No, he didn't ask if I knew a name No, he didn't search my mind for a time and a date No, he didn't offer a doctor or the police Yes, he asked me what I was wearing. And I tried not to choke on my tongue again Like the way I choked on the rapist's penis When he forced it down my throat So I raised my chin and tear streaked cheeks Looked him in the eyes with not the dignity I had left But the iota of hope And I whispered, "A turtleneck. I was wearing a turtleneck." -anna sluder

Death by Smoke

I always would've rather lived in a room sweating with delirium And drown in its lustrous perfume Crack apart the alveoli in my lungs Just to taste a gust of doom And mother was the one who taught me this To exist amongst the fog and the smoke For it is better for an ash smudged man to live with the soot Than to try to live in the pure air and choke So it was no wonder when my mother Slipped between the vapor and the cup That I rolled her ashes into a joint And lit my mother up. -anna sluder 

The Lyricist

And I feel like I'm quaking here With the light gouging out my pupils Sweat wobbling down my temple As the room sways and stares The rough texture of the microphone grating my lips Shaking, not breathing For as the melody plays and you sing I cannot join in Yet I am still chained to the stage With not a single thing to say but the absurd Trembling as you sing something to which I cannot follow Something to which I have never heard For you said "I love you" And that changed all the words. -anna sluder

Breath(e)

When it comes down to it You always breathe It is the first act you do upon arrival in this world And the natural thing you do when you cannot remember to do anything else or when you don't know how to feel or what to say you still always breathe well that's the thing I cannot do in this instant I cannot remember that But I do remember this You are beautiful. -anna sluder

Society is a Taxidermist

Society is nothing more than a mere taxidermist That packs us all with expectations and lies And stitches us back up, then needles our lips Stretching the skin up into a victimized grin Sewing pleasure upon our faces in response to the rules But bodies satiated with distortion and deception Cannot do more than be posed and angled Stretched and set Boxed and performed in a museum To flaunt the flawless citizen to mirror But as you show me off I hope to God that you see The little stitch that snaps in the corner of my mouth The edge of my lip trying to frown Telling you to get the hell out Before you too, are a hollow stuffed man. -anna sluder