Poems for the Brave

Pretty Thing

Good morning, oh shit, I'm sorry!
The sheets have crinkled under my body
I've bled like prey, my head it sways,
The pain is like a broken, pitiless lorry.
Hitting me, don't hit me - no!
Slap me twice, and please I'll go.
You don't want me to leave your paradise
Of tainted fury and love like ice.
And so I curl in this peat black world
Your tongue like iron you lash and you burn,
Clamp iron cuffs around my wrists
You heave me upwards and on me you breathe.
Oh pretty thing, my pretty thing.
Dance in circles and sweetly sing,
Let me comb your flaxen hair
And from your head the honey curls I'll tear.
Off! Off! Ow oh stop!
Your mind has changed like a cuckoo clock,
My scalp it bleeds, blood stains my knees
And you rip me apart as you snarl and seethe.
When time has passed you slip your mask
And step into your navy suit at last,
You comb your hair, and kiss me there
See you later, pretty thing - you kindly stare.
Whirlwind like you spin and leave
My heart burns and I gasp - I can breathe,
Now you have left me, alleviated, relieved -
I fall and cry like a baby, to my knees.
My tears are only little in this big wide world
Silent and sorry I fail still to burn,
A diminished flame - still the same
You'll be back at four, and this will be more,
Than your sick, violent, torturous game...