he hid the limits of his trust
in my little closet
where his wicked eyes
they saw someone he could lock up
delivering a twisted truth
to his paranoid mind
refusing me to interfere
and my voice crackling in the receiver
stripped him of everything he needed
debauching his judgment
to the imminent extent
cackles in his ear
got mixed up with his mother mixing the dough –
birthday each day was supposed to mean
justifying his life as a family man;
so let’s drink to his health
depraved, destructive, anointed
with all kinds of speckled stuff
for beginners in the inner world;
got off on the wrong foot
it was a serious mistake
for which he now has to pay
eternally
with me getting off this paranoid train
whose fate will remain unknown to me
I can definitely handle it
---
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About the Creator
Moon Desert
UK-based
BA in Cultural Studies
Crime Fiction: Love
Poetry: Friend
Psychology: Salvation
Where the wild roses grow full of words...
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Comments (2)
I despise people like him! "With me getting off the paranoid train" was my favourite line! Loved your poem!
That pull between family of origin & family of choice, the burden of kinship ties vs. the desire of one's heart. Both tend to be important. When they get out of whack, hearts are bound to be broken. There are no victors.