Lit, a poem written by Stacy Gardner at



written by: Stacy Gardner


I married a pair of rose colored glasses
and was fed to the wolves a toe at a time
Blood stained his fingers
a time or three
Who knows as far as I could see?
Rose colored glasses kept the imagery obscure
To reassure he’d simply bait the lure
and use someone’s rag
to polish the spatter on my lens
Wet hands would grasp mine
as he’d whisper sweet little lies
lulling me into a place
of misplaced complacency
and grief
I deserved this
the culpable person I was

A toe at a time and piece by piece
I was happy to lose the ears
so I couldn’t hear the gnashing of teeth
Amongst them he would dance
a charming and glamourous prance
Drunk on my blood he sang
soft and gently
a toast to vitality

They swarmed for a morsel
and snarled for a chunk
And I shrunk into the trunk
of a dead tree I was bound to
rotten roots cinched under my heart
It was the song they howled
as they circled and growled, “for shame”
each tongue sparking the flame
of the fire beneath my being

I swore there was more of me but
I couldn’t feel
and I couldn’t be sure
the pain was ever so
My limbs must have ghosted as he boasted
woe is he
while tossing the main spread to the frenzies
No mercies or compassion
just aggressive reactions
and how could so many be wrong?
I deserved this
the culpable person I was

With a two edged sword
he brushed his lips against my tears
and perforated my sanity
“That’s not what happened
don’t worry my dear
It’s all in your head
there’s nothing to fear
and nothing to see so let it be!”

I looked down in despair to find
my body still there
vehemently I checked to make sure
I quivered
and fluttered
confusion had matured
as I held the knife in slippery hands
with exhausted palpitations I shivered and shuddered

“Now give me the knife
and unblemish yourself
you’re shameful in blood
and wolves are about”

Saddled and unsure on how much
one could
or should endure? To have plunged the knife
would have quickly secured
an end to the shame
and an end to suffice

So I raised the knife for bittersweet
to plunge it deep and bring the sleep
where I could bypass
the transcending incursion
of burning tongues
and slighted perversions
It was the end of the inroad
I deserved this
the culpable person I was

Then by the Spirit
I was whisked away
to a mattress on the floor opposite the hall
in a room with a view of a hospital wall
Secured and sedated
I wasn’t sure
Dazed and confused
I couldn’t decide
if the man who had just introduced himself
as Scary Larry
was doctor or patient
The clipboard seemed official yet the robe
like my brain
was on the fuzzier side. What was real?
I deserved this
the culpable person I was
Back to bed until I could see

To show the psychiatrist
the visions I’d seen
I handed her my blood stained
rose colored glasses to read
“Do you hear the song they howled
as they circled and growled, “for shame”?
Do you see him prance amongst them
a carousing game of chance
an innocent, charming and glamourous dance?
I’m stuck in this trance and stigmas my fame
Let me have the end I deserve
the culpable person I am”

“These pains are not yours to bear
This is abuse
it’s true, I swear!
You have been filled with gasoline
and lit
with a match from the grit
of his beard and he spat
as he steered the pack
and veered toward the crowd
gnashing jeering peering and proud
They cheered
as he sheared your reality
a toe
at a time
Your fears are real
and it’s true
you’ve suffered at the hands
of a gas lighter too.”

Latest posts by Stacy Gardner (see all)
  • Lit - August 3, 2019