She's Trapped

She's trapped
In a loveless state, not even trying to get away
She's trapped
In a house with no love, or at least none that she knows of

She's sad
Says her prayers every night but always looks back
She's sad
Asked for help but kept on being so bad

She's trapped
She smiles at faces that don't matter
We're trapped
We're locked up away from each other

***

What's love?
When you'd rather be on a beach in the isles?
Teasing stars and drinking wine?
Holding hands and feeling fine?

What's love?
When you'd rather be smoking dope, sniffing coke?
Running away as you try your best to cope?

***

She's trapped
Reaching for fingers miles away
Smiling at people, pretending it's ok

She wants to slit her wrists and numb her eyes
rip her ears and bleed out dry
and she wants to stop fucking crying herself to sleep every night

- By Josh N

YOU LIVE UNDER A STAIRCASE

And governed by all types of perversion - a world ungrasped and incalculable.

Sexual gratification of murder

for ration;

a childish giggle for foreplay

and death of a nation

Tender fingers

rasped iron bars

The prisoner bled rust from his head

into jars

And he sold them to inmates

too afraid to accept

that it wasn't a juice from a café

He said:

The devil he lives in a stairwell

below you

Your steps will alert him

Your breaths

will arouse

his affections

You left him, you said,

but you held on to death

And The Earth is a finger:

directed a sun

to revolve around pride if you loved

then he won

Have you seen evil’s vile

A split tongue

and a smile

Who created your fear

but a complex denial

of self for a while?

Oh dear

You set fire to hearth

while the wood prospered on

Because go from your birth

a malignant confront

told you life is a treasure

but just what is won

in a dank bloody cellar

where your dad

kept his guns

So drained out

of fulfilment

they winked and they said

if you opened your mind

you’d find summer

is red

from the blood

of a devil

and his wife that you tortured right under his bed

Mother, dear

You tried only your best

to declare a resemblance

to a God

and you dressed up in dresses choked dry by the presses

pretending to care when we all know you left us

to deal with negligence

far out a prayer

for some hopeless repentance

yes better beware. So

pass bowls full of water and cups with entrails

to your Satan still under the staircase

 - By Josh N