Something dark is living in the closet. He was in bed with me and you said he wasn’t. He pushed me and you said he didn’t. He was asleep next to me and you were on the other side. You put your hand on my stomach and said, “do you feel that …it’s moving through me. It isn’t me.” I said, “yes, it’s nothing.” I thought, “it’s a weak current, why is he doing this to me?” You said, “feel it, do you feel the power, it isn’t me. It’s moving through me.” I said, “why are you saying that, why are you doing this to me?” you said, ” I was dreaming and you became part of my dream I didn’t mean to do it.” You took over the bed and I was unsure in the dark who was with me. Then I felt you asking why- inside of the shell- and he was there moving everything through you. Like sound, meaning something that’s actually gone. An echo, reverberation, a meaningless threat. I can see why he stares as he does, looking for a new body in you. “Stop touching me,” I said. You couldn’t even say, “stop or no to him. it’s not me.” You couldn’t even say to him, “it’s not me, it’s you, leave her alone.” And so he did what he wanted and I was inside, of another dream of yours as your body shook in a spasm. I thought, “I have to get out of here, this house is heavy with the purging of evil. I’m not safe at this point.” I thought, “you probably looked at him too long and got possessed by the dark thing hiding in his closet.” They like to pretend it’s you or act like I did it or that you became a part of something demonic because of me. The truth is I was a victim simply by observation of the evening. He never even turned around. I heard his mother screaming in his head. The violence was deadly, and I left. The room was dark but the clock said 9am. I said, “great, this time the sun isn’t even going to come up at all.” And I wandered the hours of night in search of answers to why and I worried about him being stuck under your skin. Under your skin where he’s living. Where you can’t move a muscle because of him. Where you’ll say anything he wants you to say- you’ll forgive him, believe him- wander in the dark even though you know daylight is long since due. In the end I knew you’d leave with him because- it’s his head and his legs that carry you- without me- a shell vacant without his inhabitance- and there was nothing I could do. My stomach is scarred and has been hollow for years. It’s because of these sorts of things seeping in, whoever has left me because of it…and I’m not saying it’s you…but why was your hand there? After we saw what we saw in his eyes, and after what he has ignored…you would do this, touch me with his demon who has clutches in you? You said you were having a dream and the power was moving through you. “Feel it, I want you to feel it.” You said in a voice too ghostly to be living. I said, “get your hands off of me.” it’s only a trickle of a desperate man’s sexual secret. It’s only a tiny current of something he can’t give to her anymore. His mother was a pawn, just like you. So he strikes you and you believe him..I said to myself, “not any more.” Why am I here at all. This poor boy, it’s worse than I thought. I had this semi nightmare where you were inside me leaving the dark thing in the closet even though you knew the damage it does. It was early morning and the sun never rose. Not today. I am sitting in night. You sit covered in a dark blanket. “Good morning, i had a disturbing dream…but I feel positive about it…because in the end your wings caressed my body.” All I can do is stay in my corner away from the shadows you’ll trace today, obviously he’s not leaving anytime soon. I’m trapped inside something immortal that needs me to kill it. I’m not stupid, but it’s hunger to die hurts me. There was a lot of hunger. You had your phone and you never even texted me to say goodbye. I knew you had to go because his thread ran through you and I was only a woman that was hit in the bed by something you both haven’t seen. And he’d say anything to keep
you sleeping next to him. I wasn’t stupid. I know a stalker when I see one. A boy filled with a mother’s fear. A blow job left undone. An incomplete piece of me. I know when a demon has entered the room, my body even…through a tandem voice. I can feel it. Do you think I slept last night. Of course not. I never do. I kept all the lights on and listened to every breath rise and fall. I don’t sleep, not in dreams like these where men eat without opening there mouths. Something back there calls from the closet and the door creaks, yes I hear. What are your plans for the future psychopath? What have you done to your mother? Where is the rest of her body? In your closest or in me, in the bed. I’m not stupid. I’m not evil. I’m just under your eye sight staring back where he watches in desperation from the night world. Not conscious at all of the dark thing about to strike from the closet. I’ve seen this before, again and again. I am hungry and so I start looking for food. Apparently he can’t taste a thing but keeps eating anyway, his throat- just a bardo. The food was free and the hours were still dark. I waited but you never came out to meet me. I saw you from where I was floating, you were sitting in a chair… watching his shadow like a lump in the bed. Giving him what he wants like it’s the right thing to do. “The creator would know. The creator has a plan.” The creator is dead on the floor underneath me. Wake up. Do you understand about daybreak and long drives that go nowhere? Do you see that eyes get inverted and that’s how swamps are formed. Swamp, dark things have happened. His head was in my lap…just a gutted little boy… sucking for air. I have roots that can’t be twisted, not pulled from the light- though it’s unseen in this nightmare. I am not that sort of noise making shell. I have risen into another dimension. I don’t believe either of you. It’s my bed. It’s my dark thing in the closet you’re both ignoring- I would know- I feed him when he’s hungry. I’ve already felt the needle of pain. I’m scarred already by the invisible blade. “Psychic surgery won’t work.” but I didn’t have the heart to tell his new mother the truth, she could barely breathe anyway. The dark as we know, is inside. Why look elsewhere. Well, first of all because he gave it to you and second of all because it’s contagious. I am looking at something I can never touch and it’s clearly apparent how demons spread viruses over large spans of time, eventually emptying out anything but this. He’s not someone you can find…he’s been left to rot with old corpses he pushes around in bed like it’s a spiritual- higher form of love or he needs the new space to enter spiritual- higher realms. To breathe, just to breathe, but nothing- only a half swallow and a choke, help me without words, the song unfortunately is also within under the only food left to eat…there’s no life here at all. All this father fear in the swamp of this torn stomach makes for bad dreams and lonely wives. A dark thing lives in his closet, in his child’s pants. In his mother’s eyes- and it’s not my fault. I was simply there asking questions, watching for why and getting pushed around. I let these transactions occur due to the new life that is coming, after the death of this old one. For his aching emptiness, because what he can’t see has hurt him inside me. I wish he hadn’t hugged me in the end…because it’s not just a dream, not like you think…choke. Sharada Devi

6 thoughts on “…choke.”

  1. I can feel it. The dull choke won’t be.
    On top, the mother. Not really. What I mean is that the delusion doesn’t last. Not when the cold night wakes you And the bright wind carries your song. For her. Who hasn’t been heard.

    1. diamond shaped woman
      seamkess body,
      I am everywhere howling
      in every delusion is me.
      there is nothing but diamonds..
      and wolves…as far as your eyes
      can see…then, we reach for the
      flower hidden in the moon, shiny one.
      We are both there, without contradiction.
      Calling to her, “I’m not crazy just because I’m crazy.” I am me. Lunatics don’t get cold, they get you. In every smouldering growl, they get loved. By everything. Ok?

        1. I say ok- like let’s agree,
          peace. even though I know
          it won’t happen, I’ve got to
          pretend I’m not looking
          for a new war with every breath…

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