Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Slaughter

You speak in the harshest pentecostal tongue I know.
Words grabbing hold of my chest, clawing it into shreds.
Leave no hair unburnt, leave no freckle of mine behind.
You still find me, in that pit, along with your past
Your now so present, and your soon, but somehow distant, future.
Batting eye lashes like something pretty.
Knitting your safety net as you are already falling to the ground.
Keep your hands in my blood, I want them all to know.
Showing signs of what once was a perfect match,
Now blown out by the cool wisp of your sinister breath.
I don't follow any causes but my own,
I don't walk where I know I shouldn't.
I don't pretend to be okay when I am not.
The smile pastuered to my face is ever permnant, not a lie.
Simply a glimpse into my mind.
Where I am daydreaming
Of killing you.