SICK LIT MAGAZINE

Asiento

 

Stark nightmare,

wake at twilight,

a rush of cold anxiety

beneath the skin.

 

Stone rattlesnake

clutched too tightly

to your breast, stained

with poisoned sweat.

 

Faint tremors pinch

the tattooed petals

at your wrist.

 

Bind your skin with

catgut and desiccated

feathers. Smear blood

let from thin veins.

 

Your fake rituals and

store-bought fetishes

can’t protect you now.

***

C.C. O’Hanlon is what the Germans call a lebenskünstler (‘life artist’). He has published numerous essays, short stories, and diaristic photographs but refuses to think of himself as a writer.. He currently lives in Berlin. Find him on Twitter at: https://twitter.com/ccohanlon ***

*Featured image courtesy of Toby Penney*