Simple Truths
He stuttered,
falsely bitten tongue
hemorrhaging inside his mouth;
cigarette smoke bred with
slander from the man
sent sweat on suicide leaps
from his flushed brow,
and he said,
"I don't know."
Now he rots,
living as some ex-teamster's bitch
and giving fellatio to the man.
He can still smell the cigarettes
and taste his own blood.
Colt .45 breathing down his wife's neck,
it sucked the life out of her like
a vacuum down the throat of a rat,
lapping up each organ until the skin ripped
and imploded,
and only a fragmented skeleton was left.
It hadn't been his first encounter.
He'd practiced. For his wife.
He cries at night
(into the shoulder of his bitch),
and wonders why he was spared.
"We're lodged between the two heavens,"
is the only reply.
He believes it.
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forgotten_oasis's journal
Hallow
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energetic
bitchy