Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

he would complain i never wrote poems about him

there is a place where love dies

it is halfway through a liter of whiskey
when his furnace eyes burn
a dying madman’s gaze

i’m five again
and afraid of what daddy is going to do to mommy

like a fool i try to hide what’s left in the bottle
to keep his sickness from swallowing the house

crying out to god in the sink hole
haven’t my children suffered enough

but the gesture only serves to fuel the monster’s rage

backed into a corner
his hands wrap around my throat
spitty growl threatening
to smack me with
a hot iron

all i can think to myself is
you got what you wanted
you stupid bitch
such a fine job you’ve done replacing your father

never again will i accept this as love
i own the shitty choices i’ve made

but some insidious bastards
deserve to get cancer of the eyes

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