100 Poems For The Soul

Hate

  I can see it in your eyes
When you pass the mirrors- a dark sea, welling up; weeds, their tendrils
climbing your ribcage. I wonder how many of your organs are
smothering as we speak.

I can smell it on your skin
Seeping from your pores, a sickness, mushroom-clouds hovering
over your face. How can you breathe?... oh yes. You're always
telling me how you're choking.

I can feel it in your bones
Fractures, disassembled joints, and lurking in sunken marrow, a
yearning to break. Splintered skin is wrapping itself around your
fragmented femurs, knitting awkwardly, and this is why you won't
meet my eyes.

I still hear it in your voice
Roughened, burned out by acid and smoke in the back of your
throat, and catching like worn-out jeans on the teeth of chain-link
junkyard fences. It's a shiver, a crawling low to the ground, hoping
that no one hears a word you've said and yet screaming, please
listen.