Your words strike through me like an Iron Bullet of Truth.

The smell of alcohol poisons my nose, and yet,

all things I held true, or looked away from, were torn to pieces and shoved in my face,

Respectively.

I wonder what you were actually thinking, then and now,

about what you were doing, what you are doing,

and how your words have sewn my prides destruction.

I laugh as I tell what’s been cut.

My prejudice, my very soul.

I laughed, scoffed even, about mornings tomorrow,

how we would all laugh and say it was all right.

But she wasn’t laughing. She was weeping, and how we laughed all the harder.

I hate myself.

Down the stairs I went, rueful grin about,

ignorant in the coming of my pestilence, and

as I saw her face it was....

Like a change, like truth.

Like.

God.

The very thought of his existence makes me …..

And then she slammed her head against the wall.

I saw. Breath stopped, my very su’um.

No don’t.

Atrocities met my eyes, or, things I thought,

but all I could do was....was.

Nothing.

Ration left and came the

Shout.

And so what, am I supposed to believe that I did so to protect her.

No, not at all.

Just annoyance at that point, no passion, just pointless yelling.

But pain lied underneath.

The words of my own kin slew my heart, how mediocre.

But how else would I have phrased it, that is what it did.

Done.

Is still doing.

I weep.

Rolling like passengers on a broken ship we turn about and say,

refute of our creation, and BACKTALK.

But he my father calls it poison.

Over and over, why wont he stop.

I hold her put he:

Venom, venom, venom, venom, venom.

POISON. POISON!

FROM YOUR THROAT.

Tears’ pain.

And so a facade of a near-calm arises and we take you home.

But is it over? No.

We will remember in the morn, oh yes we will.

I think I’ll have nightmares tonight.