A Poem
The poignant print Has pressed itself Upon my cerebrum Sepia ink bleeding The cells we share Scream in anguish Silenced, winded Controlled by them Another whisper Her Faint voice Only heads his own. Him There’s always A him First under Their skins Like they belonged To him And each after Many faces The same demon Chancers Gypsies Faux gentlemen Had his way Abusing bodies Manipulating minds Like no crime Captive strangled His God-given right Blind eyes Sightless Mindless The perverse Protected It’s the mad Talking No one hears Gibberish Gobbledygook Drivel Swept under Bulging rug Give it a wide-berth The unstable Weave weathers Fraying weakening The boards Beneath creak Like her voice Cognitive dissonance Ignorant until It’s too late… Another coffin How many now? Hold hands Ersatz repentance Hypocrisy reigning Sins of the Self-righteous Self-proclaimed Unchallenged patriarch The worst of them Self-made god(s) Bitten tongues My open eyes See through The shoddy charade That he parades With every dial Every smile Clink of glass The heart haemorrhages In silent solitude There’s no truce With these Truths Your Heaven is A lie and your Hell awaits When you Fucking die.
Clan Witch & Word Refinery 