Murder In My Mind

[absinthe_cafe]

I've always thought that
I was too intense to
merely have skeletons in my closet-
After all, what are skeletons?
Halloween party decorations
and anatomy tools;
Quaint and clean and
disturbingly un-horrifying

Well, my closet is more of a room
And my skeletons are more like bodies
So really it's not so different from a morgue
Sterile and white and dark and haunting

But for some reason all the same
I find I can never stay away for long
And I'll return like it's an addiction
To pull out those bodies again
and see their familiar faces, noticing
that some have finally crumbled into dust
while others look just the way they were when they were first murdered,
Glassy eyes open and bruises on their pale skin

But while I'm all alone in this cold chamber of death and memories,
I feel the strain of keeping these bodies hidden,
Of keeping my rats in my cellar,
And of pretending I've only a skeleton or two
When in reality there's murder on my brain

And in time I've come to realize that
I would rather there be a hundred skeletons in my closet,
-In my bed, my bathroom, wearing my clothes and sitting at my table,
following me openly in a morbid and unholy parade-
Than for there to be one single morgue inside my head.

(c) Trina Rutz