You have no right

to roam around my home,

use my stuff, and

touch what’s mine.

You have no right

to steal my ones’

heart’s desire;

blinding them with

 

your façade

colorless mask

hollow devouring

fake curving lips,

sucking their souls

out of their puppeting

bodies–you

devious

whore.

 

Don’t you know that walls

hold the deepest secrets?

Moans and groans and

gossips and all?

I may be invisible;

inaudible; senseless;

but I am everywhere,

witnessing every vile touch

you lay on him

 

ever so meticulously

drowning his organs and

veins with your

poisonous seductions.

And now look at you,

strutting around, proud,

with your belly

bulging and overwhelming.

 

All I can say is that

I hope that creature–that thing–inside

full of mesh, unformed,

incinerates and crumbles

out of you as

pieces of dead litter,

 

and that one day,

you will feel the fire

I feel, that burned

me to my

own grave.

 

 

 

 

 

Tags: 302poetry, journal5, section2
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