Jennifer Lauren Collins

by Horror Sleaze Trash on May 9, 2013


Jennifer is a tattooed poet and animal lover who has been reluctantly transplanted from the south, and now lives with her husband and creatures in Pittsburgh, PA.  Her poetry has been published in various journals and nominated for a Pushcart by Puerto Del Sol, and she spends her summers as an instructor of creative writing and drama at the Cardigan Mountain School.



I curl into my bed that rests in this new home

Closing my eyes against the foreign ceiling beams above

But only a moment passes before I feel a warm draft

Of air settling beside me like the presence a lover brings, and a touch like foam

Opens my eyes as a cloud of fog states, “You owe rent, my love.”

And that first time, in his face, I screamed, as my new dwelling’s ghost laughed.


And I began to roll away but the moment quickly passed

As my ass and spine were all at once glued to the cool sheet

And I felt a fuzzy presence begin to drift under my

Flimsy silk top and make my breasts stand soldier fast

To the attentions of my warm-fog would be lover’s fingers of sleet

That brings my arms up, up, until they are fastened with a tie


Of tingling air to the posts I have never before considered a threat

Although they now play union with the elements to change my mind

I see nothing, am enveloped by a thick gray dense mist

That touches me everywhere and nowhere until a set

Rhythm of pulsing fog arrests my breath and I find

That his humid attentions are curling my toes…I can’t resist


Moaning a mangled yes through my shivering lips

That finds its’ way to my unnatural charmer’s wits

And the motion of the air that clasps my tortured breasts

Slows as I realize the fatal mistake I’ve made that now clips

My own self to this elemental calamity until he finishes and quits

Though I suddenly know without a doubt he shan’t till morning, when he normally rests


And he goes on, slandering my body with unseen dimensions

And a repertoire of ecstasy endowing tricks

That I unwittingly invited upon myself when I said yes

To this vampire of the flesh whose presentations

Trafficate my skin with unremitting ticks

Of pain and pleasure and pleasure and pain and yes, no, yes


But this delicate demon continues his ministrations through the night

Upon my body, spread and then twisted and turned like a doll

While his misty hard presence encircles me and silently

Crosses that penetratable line between out and in, dark and light

Poaching me in every possible crevice of holy possibility and all

Of my being shudders over and over with gasps brought on by a presence that my mind

still says cannot be


And hours of seemingly impossible feelings continue

Until the chilled presence tat still has fingers within my exhausted body

Suddenly strengthen their frequent pulsings and I groan in unhidden

Tenderized, tightening pain

As tendrils of freezing smoke spew

Into me as if a trio of hoses have just unleashed their aqueous fury

And in the aftermath his lingering touch whispers, “Until your rent is due, again.”

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