Did you think I was going to write about souffle? Call it what you like.
He has little gooey chunks of them, all kinds of fruity flavours, tucked away in labelled jars at the back of his shoe cupboard. Why shoe cupboard you ask me? Read on.
Part 1
You could hear her muffled cries in his stone cold ears.
You could hear his angry roar blazing through her fears.
Stroking every naked inch till every pore is ripe
To ravage with a burning spike he'd twist and twirl and swipe.
Tough black boots that never bend
Purple wounds that never mend
Grinding grey that pretty face
Grinning as he ripped that lace.
Grab her hair, don't make a sound
Watch her writhing, bruised and bound
Make the shoe come down again
Make her glad she found your den.
Harder now, he kicks and kicks
Every blow a bristling brick
Her insides now a mad mauled mess
Her skin merged with the pale pink dress.
She felt the blood flow, black and dead
Unborn infant lying in red.
Part II
A little funny ugly thing
She'd nurtured gladly
just for him.
No pain now
Just a hungry moan
A wild eyed tear stained
shattered groan.
And still the kicks went on and on
She kissed his feet
And begged his scorn
And hugged his image in her mind
And worshipped gladly, wrecked and blind.
So love me as you always do
This one's stained,get a brand new shoe.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
13 comments:
Good God!! what was this??
A: just my mind out of control I guess.
You do have a lovely mind, and it works so well when out of control ;)
no not becoz of this poem, in general I mean
Quiet complex exploration of love recrimination and forgiveness .. I'm not sure - I comprehended it properly..
aradhita:thats an unexpected compliment.thanks
aria-your very very close.and again perhaps he's just a monster and she's madly in love with him. he has other jars too, remember.
or perhaps its about someone else's baby...or none of this,just one of my fits.
Reading something like this can certainly make one want to turn away and pretend that it doesn't happen every few seconds all over the world.
Though this is hard to stomach, it is so wretchedly real, that I taste her blood and bile.
Or maybe she is more unsafe outside than she is inside, with him. Don't such societies exist in our world?! Maybe the bitter soles of his shoe felt softer than the tasteless soles of injustice, perversion and discrimination in the outside world. Maybe she decided to take the risk until her little, ugly one decided to help his/her mom face the malicious world.
I like you. The way you write. Can relate to it. Though not always in ways that you might imagine I would.
individualist: thats a helluva point. You might be fairly near the truth, but then again, don't presume to know what I might imagine- I don't always myself and now that you've piqued my curiosity, do tell me more.
mermaid: thats the idea. People have to be able to taste and feel it and not stay numb because they can't take it. Denial is a dangerous thing. Not sure if many people will read through this one.
Awesome :)
they'll go. you'll be better soon
........
Nessa, death, TTIM, Vertigo: I'm amazed people actually read this.Thanks.
Post a Comment