Nick

I inhale the heady fumes of your speech
Flowery et passionante
Choked to death by warm regurgitation.
Was there ever an original idea
Off your head, sweetheart?
No, stumbling blues and a scrapped melody
Rammed down the jugular of fresh complaint.
Anything to shut it up.
Your vocals scream an oppressive silence
Down the telephone
Like the loose cannon before it
Explodes.
Darling, you know it too well.
Madness and paranoia hold hands in your eyes,
Your sick and twisted love affair with yourself
Grinding to a nauseating halt.
Public exposure before the mirrored desperates
When you know we're watching.
Precious, the webcam adores your
Repulsive smile.
Go quietly now, escorted by the truth.
There's no need to make a scene.
Love, you're no longer needed.

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed