CONTRITE

PM1211245

CONTRITE

Curtains have been drawn,

and no amount of light has

managed to inch its way in,

so I try to remain asleep, even

though I know I was never asleep 

in the first place.

I hear dogs in the distance,

howling at imaginary rabbits

that yearned to be chased across the

backyard only to be caught in

the end and be ripped to shreds

by razor-sharp teeth.

Birds fly over the scene and witness

all but they offer no help,

not even the offer to act as a 

witness to the brutality.

The screams from the neighbors 

are audible but muted,

lots of noise,but no words,

as if they scream at each other

but they have their own code so as

not to give away their deepest

secrets,

but we know something is wrong,

they are not discussing today's racing

page or a stock market plunge

prediction.

The kettle finally steams

and lava boils up and pours

over the rim

marking the mountain forever

while covering up the most recent

tidbits of shame and ugliness.

We are too cruel and we know it,

who can talk about love and

compassion while eating a cheeseburger,

or listen to a speech on equality

while the only thing you can think of

to stop the chatter,

is to ram your cock in her mouth.

Even when the curtains

are finally opened wide,

only darkness and more darkness

fills the room, the glowing tip

of a cigarette butt, the only star

in the sky,

Dreams of Hilda Doolittle,

and Sheri Martinelli,

from sepia-inspired fantasies.

Scrotal sacs are folded up

 and loaded onto the truck,

a fond farewell to mud, dog-shit

and snot-filled tissues.

The range has moved on and I

feel as though yet another ship has

sailed, I had the keel in my

back pocket but then I couldn't

walk very well, could I?

MCC

NB- Some disturbing imagery in there, I know, finding it harder and harder to keep it below the surface, MCC.