Rot

On addition

Rot

That deep-rooted habit,

Claims me as it’s own

D-d-d-damning, grit

Grinding, decaying man of stone

 

Who wanders and wonders.

 

“Nothing is written in blood

Or stars. Liar, liar

The mirror-man taunts

He pours rain on the fire

 

Of trust and patience

Losing sleep? I never found her.

The cut informs me “You’re human.”

Indignant tears, I am a butcher

 

Who chops off his own hands with a defiant smile?

 

There is no ointment for this fly

But he is stuck nevertheless

The garrotte that rots

Enable/Disable so priceless

 

That, that is what destroys this enlarged mutant boy.

 

 

 

Reviews

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

Indeed, it is what rots us all, a great piece, well done, good read.