![]() PsychopathA Poem by John Alexander McFadyen![]() He walks among us.![]() As a child,
he had too many
hits on the head with a
snake, so he
tortured toys because he'd
pulled the legs off
all the spiders in the
neighbourhood. He learned
to ejaculate backwards simply to
spite himself, and stood on
the edge of town, a razor's keenness stroked
across the once virgin
skin of his stubbled
face, until blood
read poetry spilt from purple
lips. He'd never
fill that face with gas, more Ted
Hughes than Sylvia Plath, his hardened edges ground in powdered glass as he swallowed
pride like an aspirin pain. No need for
statements from tattoos on skin, no intention to ink himself with anything more than the blackest of Satan's sins. He fell from the grace of all the gods on earth, and chalked the school walls with spray painted expletives, and the prison walls with his own excrement. But he doesn't look in the mirror, for it has nothing to say to him, and he doesn't look away from the downcast eyes that cannot meet his stare, for his heart is an empty. hollow chamber, and his soul is nothing but ash. 01/09/19 © 2019 John Alexander McFadyenAuthor's Note
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12 Reviews Added on September 1, 2019 Last Updated on September 1, 2019 Author![]() John Alexander McFadyenBrixworth, England, United KingdomAboutWell, have a long and complicated story and started it as an autobiography on Bebo but got writer's block/memory fogging. People liked it though and kept asking for the next chapter! fools.. more..Writing
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