leftovers

unwelcome by my soul,

the feeling still remains.

a greasy green troll sits

grinning in my favorite

chair. doubts, like sting-

ing flies, swarm his rotten

stench. tarry black fear

drips, venomous, from his

yellowed fangs, begging

for a vein to inject with

a little death. he watches

me sleep as though he’s

watching brownies bake.

he’s hungry and angry

and yours! I only agreed

to babysit your pain be-

cause we were in love.

 

now that you’ve decided

to part, I’m just letting

you know, that you’d

better come pick this

little b*****d up, or I

will toss him from a

bridge, and forget that

either of you ever existed.

 

I stare at your filthy

soul all day long. he

just sits there: moaning,

squealing, begging for

attention, but, every

time I try to pet him,

he attacks. in a sick way,

it’s sort of like you’re

still here; miserable

and needy and vicious.

fouling the atmosphere,

crawling inside of my

arteries. trying to tear

me apart.

 

and, damn you,

it’s working.

Reviews

[Tim Lion]

hahahahahahahahaha! wooooo! hahahahahahahaha! um...I...just can't...hahahahahaha! greasy troll soul? hahahaha!
WTF are you on you poetic mutant?

this is good writing. but, the sheer strangeness of the metaphor is really friggin funny....hahahahahaha!

you're one brilliant weirdo, bro.

love ya.
t

That last couplet is really something. The idea of neediness is so prevalent, yet it can be related to.

[Divinity Sleeps in This]

Your poems always feel like the bright eyes of creatures in the night. It arouses the unexpected.