something so different stares me down
in the bones of my face, murdering calcium

I fear a change has come on me like death

shifting all I knew previously into stones weighing down

watching myself cut out of the pack with my own knife

a wrong-headed empathy for cruel people becomes the epitaph

we can stare at ourselves directly and see nothing of the future

rushing through life, peering round corners

how soon they show their true selves and the tar of their shriveled heart

the slip from love to indifference, a hesitation gasping to spill her ache

a handful of weeks pass and they advertise themselves to others like cheap meat

for the next fool who scooping down, picks up their deceit like a fallen child

in those instances, I wish for fangs and to be wild

it seems more honest to tear your fucking throat out

than help you understand why you are poison

9 Replies to “Lemon rind lover”

  1. When empathy probes, searching for a beating heart and finds only a calculator, yes fangs are to be wished for, or thunderbolts, or dragon fire.

    A song came to mind, then another, and another, and another, and … so many.

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