Voodoo Doll

There are pins in my knees
and they feel tight when I'm alone
and it's dark
and I'm awake,
not dreaming,
awake,
and the screams and whispers
amplify
and there are eyes peering in
from the dark branches of the night,
staring at my breaking body.
The soil is moving, shifting
as the waters move upward,
and it’s bringing me with it,
sweeping me in,
trapping my mind
and weighing my body down,
down further.
My ragdoll limbs
are lined with deep stitches,
sewn with black thread,
and there are tears-
the result of carelessness.
My eyes are black,
scorched by matches,
dry and blind as they blink.
It’s all just numb
as though I’m floating,
but my body is full of needles
and they sink me further,
pressing my soul into the stuffing,
but lifting my body up with it,
tossing it over,
soaking it wet,
and setting it aflame.
Though it hurt the first many times,
I can’t feel it anymore
and I’m becoming detached
as though my mind can no longer live
in my battered excuse of a body.
If I could just remove my pins,
swallow my needles,
loosen my stitches,
then I could break this curse,
but I am forever hexed
and it’s too late to fall asleep.