She’s So Full of Herself

I was going to bed and my stomach laughed at my presumptuous ways. So, I decided to stop trying to dream with my eyes closed, and chose to spend time leafing through bookish dreams instead—books never laugh at me (too loudly *cough*).

Cinderella Skeleton, by Robert D. San Souci, came first. This Cinderella story makes more sense to me than most. I mean, as the picture below suggests, Prince Charming is obviously a forensic anthropologist with a thing for women’s bones… and shoes, which completely explains why he can identify his soulmate by a dismembered limb and not, for instance, by the depth of her conversation or unforgettable eye sockets.

I left the fairy tale to visit The Devil’s Rose, by BROM. As always, his words and art are dark and delicious. This particular book includes very few images with flesh on them, so I decided to show you this one… Well, part of it, since the rest is drenched in blood, and on the way to also being defleshed—dearest BROM delights in creepy.

Speaking of bloody and creepy and nailed, my delicious Piano Man got me a copy of Harlequin Valentine, written by Neil Gaiman and illustrated by John Bolton. Yep, he loves me that much… Nothing says I love you like Gaiman, nails and bloody hearts.

And because everything deserves loving and cuddling, I read a few poems from The Sex Lives of Monsters, by Helen Marshall. It was a present from Rommy—it seems that she, too, knows me. I must remember to ask her how long it took her to realize that I’m extremely fond of giant eyeballs, ribcages, spines and dreamcatchers.

After three hours of book-dreaming, my stomach was still being a royal bastard. So, I walked to the terrace to talk to my plants in the dark… just to find out that the moon was completely full of herself, and the darkness had to dance in the shadows…

The dark and the moon playing their natural games made me smile. With a grin on my tired face, I went inside to collect some flower petals I had been drying for a day or 3, and offered them to the moon. She didn’t wink in appreciation or anything, but my tummy was finally ready to let me sleep.

How do you capture sleep when it does not want to play, my Wicked Luvs?

Spilling Rubies on Filth

She was laughing…
(at a joke that wasn’t there)
when in the middle of Times Square,
her legs melted
from pelvis down.

High left cheekbone
smacked-kiss the pavement,
spilling rubies on filth

that pushed concrete into her flesh.

At the emergency room,
I watched bits of New York City
pocking the skin under her eye.

“What happened?”
I said,
after two nurses left the room.

“Dunno.” Silent tears said she did.

“It’s all right.” I walked to her,
and held her. “You’re all right.
We’ll figure it out, won’t we?”

“I was on my way to work,” she said,
“and heard Mami called me supermana.
I’ve been exhausted. Couldn’t stop laughing.”

I hugged her closer to my chest, rocking her,
when the hurt began to crack;
while she sobbed about her office being miles away
from Times Square; when she wept for her mom,
who had been gone for nineteen years.

Process Note: side effects of sleep deprivation include (but are not limited to) impaired judgement, hallucinations and micro-sleep—falling asleep for short periods of time without being aware of it. Many people living with chronic pain also endure sleep deprivation. ~ Healthline

for NaPoWriMo with Magaly Guerrero 2015, Day 23 – Pain and Sleep: Write a poem that explores the intricate relationship between pain and sleep.

Sleep Deprivation, by Hazel Mabbott“Sleep Deprivation”, by Hazel Mabbott