Monster

 

I’ve gotten over you – I thought/ I think (though I’m not entirely sure)

little things still stabbing and pricking at me so often

this feeling of being discarded when I’m no longer of use

still strong enough to push me down

make me wonder

induce a ripping behind my eyes as the tears pull away from the ducts.

 

Something in me still wants to cry out for all this waste,

something still rages, happily building a bitter fortress from the blockheads,

who storm my doors with their dick-forks and burning promises.