Babbling
And
Vile
17
Tumbles
Into
The dark,
You are
Not
There
To this
Unwelcome
Cur.
Oh my God.
Eyes
Tracking
Things
Invisible
To
You,
Where
Is your
Ravisher
Now?
No. Just no.
Weeping,
He cringes,
This
Cut-string
Meat
Puppet
Who once
Scratched
Your itch,
Pinning
You down
In
Your
Home.
I can't do this.
Musk
Gone
To
Stench,
Madness
Wide-open-
Kill
Him
Now-
Quickly,
No one
Will
Mourn.
It would be easy.
Blathering
He
Trembles,
In dust
And
In sweat-
You
Take
His hand,
Sighing
He
Relaxes,
Heavy
Against you.
This makes it worse.
Wounded
Yourself
His grip
Crushing
Your
Fingers
You
Limp
Towards
The
Light,
Not yet
A
Murderer.
