Monday, April 9, 2012

it's sunset and I come to you
dirty knees and ragged claws
begging for a place to lick my wounds

and my nerves sing starlight
I'm still this filth stained beast

but somewhere in the pit of my chest
our squalling fiend pauses
purrs through barbed comments

acknowledges my acceptance
this hovel is our holdfast
and in the pause


Sunday, April 1, 2012

want to rip the words from your mouth
grind them into the ground with my heel
let you see how pathetic they are

and as they scream in agony
last logic failing
last defences crumbling
they die with my sense of righteousness

and I am left bent over with grief
trying to rekindle the flame of my unfear
wanting to be the tornado I once was
but knowing

I am a widow clasping her grief to her chest
and wishing for the ignorance
that once was.