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the miserae

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  • the miserae

    what was it you conquered?
    the daring quest questioned, barely there.
    decidedly thoughtful and verbose,
    but square. to break in 77 times there
    and watch the glass fall without breaking
    and see the warpage of the sand silt there
    slithering like the slower snake ….

    you see. you see, this thing we own as ours
    given by money and electrocuting everything
    touches water that transforms, and death
    the living slate and slab of lies, you break!
    that must be it, that we would be so surcease;
    so intolerably controlling.

    these things we think, we own, we lose,
    we gain by experience something of an air
    so quickly and swiftly puffed out
    snuffed out like some noxious habit
    the but of a cigarette, the running rabbit.
    see me go, miserae, and find what you sought:
    ours: the streets at night, the glinting cars

    the living daylights sucked from our world
    just because we broke some law;
    and blood? behind my eyes, the shiner,
    the kicker and the winner: to bring the violence!
    was it not enough, o miserae, that you fought
    Time itself inside a cul-de-sac, an alleyway?
    and you knew you would overtake me.

    as if abusers don’t abuse by learning in haste,
    and quickly the grudge of our missing eyes,
    blind, distaste we cannot take.
    abuse running rampant beneath our agile feet,
    we only dance to the love we feel.
    and yet someone has to win. not only meaning,
    not only being right or asking more.

    abject abuse in the form of no other choice:
    and the choice was never yours, O miserae.
    from death which none surmount, to the kiss
    a promise from the prettiest. I lie until I’m alive again.
    like all those liars who I see right through,
    hurting me while I’m hurting them, sans confession.
    so from the guilt to the attitude of pain
    I do have every right to so hopefully complain.
    to find the ear which will faithfully listen.