Once for the witches rabbit hole
And twice for the foxes hymn
While one began to pluck her mole
The other tricked and teased men
Though two and the same
They’re known for different years
And both are to blame
For trickery and fears

You said you loved me.
You were joking.

Blood coursing through my veins.

My shirt was soaking.
From all the tears that went down my face.
After you told me the truth.
The truth about my fate.

I kept wondering.
Is this fake?
I hope it is.
Because im no longer sane.

—Salty oceans
of tragedy and memory
roll waves that pick and
toss you about,
like sand and shingle

And down-tread all
who saw these things,
these

Cedar-gripping hands and waving eyes,
strike above due caution, once you drank
and receded to sock-grey humour
to hide these things

And down-tread all
who saw these things,
these

Chippings were distracting. But I am just one,
here and now. So I always wondered,
When the others disappeared to—

Jackals  and *******
Clowns and criminals;
Lies and libelous lambastes
With integrity minimal.
Grande Guignol politics
From pusillanimous politicians
Poisoning the populace
With only selfish ambitions.

Sleight of hand shysters
And self-appointed diplomats
Throw out all their morals
And set out the welcome mat
For those the most likely
To pay the highest bribe
And have no care if they sell
The land from under the tribe.

So what if water is poisoned?
As long as they make money.
After all, the rich aren’t harmed.
Now isn’t that incredibly funny?
Who cares about the future?
What matters is right now
And the profit they can make.
It is what the law will allow.

And those that wrote those laws
So cleverly and quietly confused
The very people stupid enough
To so gullibly to be thus used.
But jackals and *******
Really aren’t animals at all.
Nor are they household pets
Who come when they are called.

I remember the weight of his body
Towering over me,
Ensnaring the torn mesh of my skin,
Concealing the crevices he's embedded me in.

The mass of his force,
That spark traveling through his velocity,
Littering my ability,
To resist and penetrate the vein of impalpable pleasure.

He keeps it contained,
At the bottom of the river,
Beneath the hidden plain,
Of his repressed, departed soul.

Acetic fizzed, frothing exhale,
Pirouetting through my nose.
Its toxicity starts to unfold,
And he wants me to recognize  
The power of his redundant trickery
Engraved in his smirking bloodshot eye.