X is for Xenophobia #AtoZChallenge

Since this is my first time doing the A to Z Challenge, I’ve decided to use a word that actually STARTS with X. Next year, I can’t make any promises. It might start with eX, or I might try something even more clever. Anyway, I’ve choosen the word, “xenophobia.” Now, before I get started, this post is not about the extreme dislike or fear of foreigners . . . well, not exactly. The foreigner in this case, is Whitmore’s ghost (because ghosts are ‘foreigners’ to this realm . . . it’s pushing it, I know). OK, now that that’s cleared up, let’s get started. I have another poem for you. Technically it’s not “written” by any of the characters, but Jessica is definitely the speaker. It pretty much describes the fear and insanity she’s descended into since Whitmore’s suicide. Fair warning, this one is dark.

This is also a re-working of a poem, “Necro-Lovers” originally published in FishFood Magazine.

X

He was dead before I met him
A walking corpse
His discolored skin clung
To his bones like bed sheets hanging
On a clothesline

His vacant, gray eyes revealed no soul
Only memories of deceased relationships
A mother’s abandonment
A lover’s betrayal

He sought a woman whose essence he could feed on
Drain her of life
replace it with misery


He arises from the sinister world beneath
Hovers over my sleeping body
Ejaculates rivers of possession into me
You belong to me
He whispers
Nibbles on my ear
Gnaws on my breasts
Bites my bottom lip

Let’s drown together in this memory foam

I scream and he cups my mouth
I beat his concave chest and he spread my legs
He feels his foreskin peeling
I am inside of you

He stays there to morning
Until he feels the last, faint throb in my neck
Then he rises, taking my skin with him

—Nortina

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