Excerpts from the Sleepless Cycle - Candle

Some nights the chandlers would come.

They would take me in my sleep and do things on me.

Tied on a wooden altar, I could only stare at their bleak, static faces, as they scrutinized my body.

The one who doesn't speak, always cared for my perfect alignment against the altar. My hands touching my thighs, my knees and ankles touching together.

The one who never talks, carried a heavy, leather bag. The metallic tools contained within were carefully arranged along an invisible surface. Even though, I could not turn my head to look at them, I knew they were pointed at me.

The third one, the one who only smiles, she would just stay unmoving in front of my face. Eyeless and white. Like trying to distract me from everything about to happen.

Excerpts from the Sleepless Cycle - Ants

Ants came while I was asleep.

They took my left eyebrow.

Carried over and planted all the hair above my right one. Now, I have just one big eyebrow. It doesn't feel right.

It's uneven. Asymmetrical. Odd.

I find myself leaning to my right side when I talk to people. They say nothing, don't even seem to notice it. But I know they're are either being polite or ashamed of my unfortunate face. All in all, I'd rather have their outright mockery, than a silent pity.

I don't know why the ants did that. Who told them to? Could it be the King of Ants, whom I've never heard about? The big shadow cast above my right eye blurs the answers.

One thing is for certain though, they're coming for my nostril hair next. They'll put it inside my ears.

That's why I filled them up with silicon. Insulation. That'll stop them. Trading some of my senses is probably worth them leaving me alone.

As for my nostril hair, it won't be easy finding it, while along with my nose, it's in the garbage can.

If only the blood would stop pouring on the paper, I would consider this a clean victory.

Excerpts from the Sleepless Cycle - Hag

The night hag comes while I sleep. With her wooden ladle she eats soup out of my open head. She stirs my dreams and sniffs the vapors through her hairy nostrils.

That's why they're always whirling when I wake up, and only the bits she left I can remember.

I will find you witch. I will take my dreams back. I can shatter them myself, all but the same.

Spiteful Ode to a Butter Fly

Butterfly, damn butterfly.

You're not a real butterfly.

You're just a normal fly,

which sat upon my butter

that's why I'm gonna now,

I'm gonna fetch the swatter.

And I will surely avenge

my now infected butter,

for it's the only thing

which in my life does matter.

You sat on my left cheek.

Some say it is a bless.

But if on me I hit you,

my own face I will mess.

So go away fly,

go away.

Spit down on your path you lay.

I don't want you in my kitchen

and I hate your buzz to listen.

I don't like you as a pet

You're just here for my nape's sweat.

Did I get you?

Did I not?

To find the body I cannot.

So I sit on triumph's verge,

while you, from behind emerge.

And you fly to the next room,

cunningly delaying your doom.

Fly you toadfood!

Fly you cunt!

I will get you when you land.

* * *

* Traditional anti-fly song by the peoples of Swamp Cukoucukacou, during the first Swamplordiness election. The toads won that time, with the mosquitoes coming very close, contrary to the general belief that the Electric Racketman has always claimed lordship.

First published in Kernel Kiki's 1894 poem and song collection, titled “Silliously?”