Chase another
hard bitter pill with a glass of
warm milk you’ve
fetched yourself when bedridden
feverish and ill,
feverish and ill,
the night is
long, long enough
for the dark
to fold you in the hurricane of your
black casket
thoughts
No one will
find you.
Lost. Deep in
your troublesome, tormented mind,
deep in your
cursing, riddled fears,
whirling mercilessly
down, where hope sown in the bleeding
womb of your
sadness will never grow.
Down, under,
beneath all what seems, what is, and what might.
Where none
of your virtues can draw enough breath to dive
Where murky waters
surround you and the
stink of
your unforgiving past fills your lungs, where venom fangs in
the enormous
jaw of silence opens to swallow you
a knife of doubt,
sharp and jagged, slices your bones
your flesh lashed
with the burning iron rod of your fascist anger,
the firm
hand of your sadist hate, your cauldron wicked pride whips you hard,
Struggle.
An ogre vacuum
of shame, widow weeping guilt will pull you fast
the cold cruel
hand smothering your faint gasped breath will never stop
abusing you.
abusing you.
Don’t
scream, don’t beg, don’t reach your desperate bony claw
mouth open
in horror, eyes white with fear
Who?
Who will ever
love you now?
