In a second
I experienced the life
sweet and sour.

Bitterness and hate tend to leave a sour taste in one's mouth. I secretly forgive for selfish reasons, for I have tasted it’s sweet freedom.

Collapsing emotions
            corrode on my
          ****** perfection.

What was diminishing,
   now collecting in a cup
            of palmed hands collected.


I wanted to no that of your
               miracles,
                            that even
though tears fell,
you never turned

            those now memory to a wine
                         of hope...

Auschwitz was a million
                  tears choked,
but you never turned
a single tear
               to a vintage of peace.


We just choked on the tears,
     and we were a vineyard
                         of silence.


Each a grape that never reached
               maturity.

Instead we fell before we could become
              more that we were.
These tears are sour,
and the taste
                erodes every fallen tears morality.

And as I bathed in milk, it became curdled. My heart eventually turning everything sour. It is a magic trick only I know.

He sits on his chair of unearned power
Time caused his temper to spoil and grow sour;
Faulting those lower in the hierarchy,
He rests, contented in his monarchy;

He wreaks havoc on anyone with dreams;
Though his entity divides at the seams
King of his castle, he sits unconcerned
Playing with fire, about to be burned

He has not learned: what goes up must come down
Breathing in water, and soon he will drown
He pushes others down to lift him up
He is bitter and decaying closeup

Written and read in a voice of deadpan:
The crimes of a diabolical man