Introduction

 

 

 

Abecedary ^{[ ey-bee-see-duh-ree ] : The alphabet, written out in a teaching book, or carved on a wall; a primer}

 

There are so many frightening things

And in imposing an alphabetic structure onto them,

I am attempting to control and contain them

It is a futile effort to make everything seem less scary

 

Each letter of the alphabet has been assigned a fright

Sometimes the poems are scary, sometimes they’re gruesome, sometimes subversive, 

Sometimes deeply personal

 

Because the definition of “scary” shifts and changes depending upon

The layers of feelings and experiences and moods

That cover our eyes like a film

 

Our lenses shift and our pupils dilate and our minds go along for the ride

 

But there are so many frightening things

 

And they seem to multiply with each passing day….

 

Will we ever be safe again? 

 

Were we ever really safe at all?

 

 

 

 

A is for Anxiety

 

You are afraid to go into your own house

Afraid to hear the click-clacking soundtrack

Of the mechanized noises that fill the walls

Drumming like filthy fingernails from a disembodied spirit

The conductor of your anxious orchestra

 

 

You are afraid to go into your own house

With its debris and detritus

Coating the floor like layers of mica

As you peel them off,

You peel your own skin

 

 

You are afraid to go into your own house

As the day’s whispers, encounters, conflicts

Follow you inside and become trapped there

And they are whipped up into a frenzied orbit

Around your head

Repeating themselves, repeating themselves,

Repeating themselves

Their words create angry shapes

Behind your eyelids

Until you can no longer close them

 

 

You are afraid to go into your own house

And enter it the way the mites enter your skin

The living things you can’t see

Inhabit your

Hair and eyes and teeth and lips and viscera

And you swear you can hear them nibbling

And, no, the bleach doesn’t reach them

And when you try to put your head on the pillow

You think you can hear them talking on its surface

Saying moist, mucous-filled words

That pop like spit bubbles

 

 

You are afraid to go into your own house

Because you can feel your frailty becoming more pervasive

Your body robs you from the inside out

Making your bones hollow

Your breath elusive

Your mind gelatinous

And each hour that passes within those walls

Dissolves you just a little more

You are becoming a crusty membrane

With nothing underneath

One day you will simply crumble

Like a withered autumn leaf

And be swept away

To make space for someone else’s season

 

 

You are afraid to go into your own house

To see its walls covered in images of your regrets

Like wallpaper, like faded photographs

It is haunted with the memories of moments

When you didn’t know that the feeling

Knitting up your insides

Was contentment

Or even joy

You hear the ghost of your own laughter

A noise that is now shrill and unfamiliar

As you darken your senses with solitude

 

 

There is nowhere else to go

You step onto the mat

That spreads its greeting

Like a rotting smile

 

 

Welcome home.