So I returned to the darkness, took a suck of a Grimm lozenge and spat out a character, Benjamin Spinks - who may well take on a life of his own if I don't rein him in.
Benjamin Spinks is the prick
to my finger,
his spindle - the weaver
of darkness and spite.
He lingers at noon
with a love declaration.
The door to my boudoir
is locked and shut tight.
At night when he croons
with a howl through the mist
I cry
“Leave me in peace!”
He laughs in my face, his voice
creeping tendrils from
outside the gate.
I am trapped by his cruelty.
A victim of hate.
I’ve no turret, no secret,
no fine golden thread.
I’ll be dead before morning,
his chains round my wrists.
He answered my prayer.
Five long days he’s been gone.
Not a drop of cold water,
no food’s touched my lips.
I whisper my last breath,
watch skin leave my bones.
Benjamin Spinks
has left me alone.
___________________________________________
