Scáth Powers

One to the side, then one to the face. She makes me do it, she does. I’d rather not touch the little beast. I’d rather not touch her at all. I touch her only as long as I have to, in order to beat the hard-hardheadedness out of her. The less the better, but she makes me do it just like her stubborn mother did. The last hit sends her to the floor, and she lays there in a heap pretending to be knocked out. She thinks I don’t know but her green eyes glow more than she realizes and I see them staring at me from behind her greasy red hair. I’m done with her for now anyway, so I let her lay there as I make my way to my best friend on the nightstand. I reach out for the bottle and miss, but catch it before it topples over. The sweet nectar I know so well pumps down my throat and the burn is a welcome distraction. How she disgusts me. I zip-up the entrance to where my other friend resides and as I take my leave I don’t forget to kick the little beast’s ribs, the spit from my mouth finding her face on it’s own. I don’t particularly enjoy this last routine anymore, but a girl needs consistency in her life, doesn't she? An all too familiar end to an all too familiar night.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

The chapter was cold and direct. The man accept what he does and feel no guilt. You create a sad vision with strong description. Thank you for sharing the excellent chapter.
Coyote