Victim

I have nothing left to say

Bad men took the words away

They came and left a place to hurt

Served screaming soup

For dessert

Nothing ever comes to misters

P.O. Box address for packaged blisters

A place where I can put to rest

My fissures, geysers,

Pedantic lovers

Moat surrounded heart,

A place where you can start,

A place where you can rest,

Where you can draw breath,

In.

Just let something in.

A rule is all you need

When you realize

That every bed time story

Is a lie.

A rule, a God.

A blade of grass to hold onto singing,

“This is mine”.

Baggy pants that scrape the floor,

Lost to use, to disuse.

Melodramatic teenagers jump off the sides of buildings,

Leaking out.

Hold onto my blood for Jesus gave it to me.

Filled my drunk body up with wine and gave it life,

With a snap,

Of his twenty three fingers.

Lost moat-heart,

Leaking out onto the floor,

Christ’s red-wine,

Screaming of our divine

Design