Of all things...

If I needed to
would you let me hurt you?

You must understand,
this is what I am:
a destroyer
of all things perfect and solid,
clean and whole.

I will push too hard
slice too deep
to the marrow
down to the core
right through that palpitating heart
and out the other side.

My looking-glass is red,
I say conversationally
and constricts so painfully.
Emerging deaf and blind
with closed eyes and covered ears,
I wallow in you.
I swallow the veins in my mouth.
Prickling and rough,
as pleasant as the bending of thorns.

And no simple trip
through your soul
can change me.

You are pathetic.
You manage to be sympathetic
while bleeding to death.
You grasp my hand
as I rise to leave you:
One last kiss...
then blood-stained lips
mark my forehead.

If I had a conscience
I would wait until you died
to wipe you away.

You would let me do this?

Yes, I imagine you would.

I know you.
I recognize your kind,
reciting your blind faith
to a rosary of daisies.

I love you.

I love you not.

But I need you
to let me tear you apart.
At least, until I find
a new lamb that won't run
from the altar.

One that will mince and waltz
carouse and gambol
between the wildflowers, leaping
without crushing a single petal.

No matter the color of its wool,
it will appear to me
as a delicious red cloud,
sitting on its hind heels,
disintegrating blossoms
petal by petal and stem by stem.

With luck, I will have
no need to hide, bide my time.
Indeed, you came to me so easily,
your trust smelling of sweet-clover.
I gave the barest of smiles;
you fell in my lap.

No fairy tale
has ever told the truth:
Of all things terrible and evil,
the most dangerous of these
are the pretty ones.
Incandescent, fascinating, hypnotic.
But treacherous and tricksy as a spider web.

Wild daisies with thorns
as long as swords
and twice
as hard as steel.

~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~

'Twas a dark and stormy metonymy... <-- More Poems