The gaping void

That consumes

The lower portion

Of your face

Is a reeking

Reeling, stark pile

Of smoldering ash

Inside its tray.

Its rhapsody

Makes my

Skin shrivel

And peel away;

I feel the entire

Contents of

My stomach become

An acidic wave;

Your breath

Suffocates.

Your face is a kaleidoscope;

And when you wash away the

Attention to the bruise;

You're your own infection.

You crave the taste

Of your

Own

"Old-news"

Wounds.

You're a curb-checked

Concrete

Concussion

That was

Stranded and left for dead

Munching

Gravel

With its soft-silk gums

The word

"Victim"

Sealed

On its head.

You're an amnesia-inducing lullaby.

You lure in curious

Speech-

You celebrate with grand parades

When

The whispers spin and reach

The ears of the innocent

That aren't familiar

With the backs of your hands

That have broken in their crossed fingers.

They don't know the maps

That are tattooed on your back.

I carved them in.

Until our facade of a friendship

Ended,

And you never got the news.

I can't wait until your distorted

Ears wake up and hear

How strongly

I abhor you.

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