She smiles – but, life having burned the bridge of her nose,
it no longer has a means to travel from her lips to her eyes.
“I hate him,” she says,
in the same tone she used to order her decaf latte,
taking a sip
and trying not to spill
on the perfectly white tablecloth.
Silently snoring comatose beast
Lurking beneath my dreams
Preying on tissue, making a feast
Of childhood’s impotent screams
Writhing in darkness, waiting for light
To harness your latent power
I’ve found you out, I’m waking you up
Arise to your final hour