HOW DO YOU DESCRIBE A MURDERER ? mother told me , once , that it was the rumble of impeding trains , pin ― striped suits , & smiles that never reach the eye . twas the flash of lights ‘thin rotting tunnels & the smell of bloomed lobelia . it was the clink of forks ‘gainst fractured porcelain , the jagged pieces of wine bottles , shattered & strewn carelessly ‘pon cherry ― kissed carpets . i’ve made my deathbed , i think , with each second spent with him . each intake of breath representing another shovel puncturing gaea’s chest : i dig my blood ― stained nails into her bosom & see wilted gerbera reside ‘thin the cavities where her lungs should have lain . i pull the tendons by her neck & watch her bleed / watch her scream ! tug at the roots , unearth this goddess , watch her bleed akin to sacrificial lamb , her head ‘gainst marble slab : a foreshadowing to my future .
reveal saturated scritta , evening ink dripping down its corners . ( * depicted is a man with congenial gaze & crooked smile . i know this man , know him too well . ) hold this withered goddess in shaking arms , asking her with faltered syllables : HAVE YOU SEEN MY FRIEND ? he is related to the sun , warm & glorious , his arms softer than angel’s downy wing . i love him , you see . he is spring’s amaryllis & i , a common weed . i could recognize him by touch alone , by smell ; i would know him blind , by the way his breaths came & his feet struck the earth . i would know him in death , at the end of the world . he is my pride / joy ! remember , the moon cannot shine without the glory of the sun riding ‘pon its back . stare at him , this modern ― day samael , who smiles with too much teeth & laughs perhaps a little too softly . he taps his finger ‘pon oak rhythmically , almost impatiently , if i dare assume . so i clear my throat , uncomfortable / afraid . take another sip of wine , feign celebration & joy . I WANT TO ESCAPE .
