an Aotearoa poetry journal | ISSN 2744-3248

All Editions

Tarot #07
Tarot #06
Tarot #05
Tarot #04
Tarot #03
Tarot #02
Tarot #01

at home

a window is pressed to my eyes
as they box me by the neck
& they cage these bloody lungs
to the walls closing in
soundless & alone
I sit by the grey, the black & the white
where no tears could fall
nor voice to hear
for the walls themselves press upon my lips
feeding upon my sorrow
& screaming at the moments
where I dare shed a tear
& they gag me with their devil hands
crafted solely for their pleasure
& when I scream ‘Silence!’ with hope
for empathy & rest
they crawl their fingers down me
piercing through my skin
& piece by piece I feel myself fading
as snow in a pool of water
adrift into an eternal night
falling deeper into a darker torment
where happiness dies to sadness
where fear molests joy
here in this house of madness
where I press myself closer to the outside
in hopes, with prayer, that I may be free:

I press my eyes to the window.