#beastly
I woke up to my neighbors belting out an off-key tune. I tried to cover my aching ears with my pillow, but their discordant voices echoed in my head, so I finally got out of bed.
I stared at the unfinished painting I had worked on the night before. In just a few seconds, my stomach dropped. Even in its incomplete state, there was a sense of impending doom looming outside my door—hideous, and that was my first thought this morning.
Shadows ran through the waves of my curls—spiraling endlessly—as my fingers gently brushed away the exhaustion from last night. For the second time, I turned to look at the unfinished painting restlessly sitting at the end of my bed. If it had eyes, it would definitely not meet my somber, dark brown gaze. It would fear me, for I would cut it into pieces. I would let it bleed until it was no longer breathing.
It would forever be cherished as a beast—unfinished, freshly cut like a lemon. When poured into a deep wound, its acidity would seize the skin, leaving nothing but unfortunate agony.
I drank two liters of fresh lemonade, but nothing happened. It didn’t cut me into pieces. I was still unfinished.
And so I avoided its beastly eyes. Even an unfinished canvas resented my sorrowful presence. I sliced another lemon and added a teaspoon of sugar, hoping today would be different.
Nov 3, 2024
Nov 3, 2024 at 5:08 AM UTC
rivers of dust
ninetynine cents
beastly fightin' wit
glowing nails
ain't no fakirs it is bloodshed
fakers neither knuckles bloodred
feel verse seven: just a bloodbath
Feb 21, 2020
Feb 21, 2020 at 11:23 AM UTC
You must be starving,
your beastly belly never satisfied,
never satiated by the image
of a woman’s *******
not her neck nor her thighs
could quench your burning,
relentless, shameful tastes
for flesh.
Of course, you're starving,
where could you run
when nothing would stop her desires,
her blood boiling, heart aching desires,
for the body, you so brazenly touched,
to be the one thing to light you on fire;
her voice, amplified by all the innocents you touched,
calls out to the hunters who
stare into your loveless, ravenous eyes,
knowing that you will always be starving.
Oct 24, 2018
Oct 24, 2018 at 9:33 PM UTC
To say the darkness
Does indeed
Dwell inside of me
Becomes the pride of me
Would underscore
The fact
That the madman’s eyes
Loosens my lunatic tongue
The scowling beast
His drooling jowls
The anguished cries
How he howls
The hunger
Left unsated
The feast
For which he waited
The beast will have his
Ways with
Life and all of her bounties
And then what lies within
Will settle once again
The foaming mouth will pass
The hunger is not meant to last
And I will be me
Once more
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 3:31 PM UTC