222. Impaled

Somewhere between the poison toothpick and the

Cold steel heart knife

You were impaled on the wooden spike

Of secret shame


It’s a shame you couldn’t wriggle off

Nor touch your feet to walk

Without the spike splitting you in two


To talk with someone

Would kill you suddenly

So you chose the quiet death of slowly choking

Slowly choking back the truth…

The names and horrors ached

Like a broken tooth



Unmedicated? Not true, alcohol soothed

The terrible nightmares and helped

To vaporize the horrible stares

The horrible stairs led in a spiral dread

Downward to destruction

as toxic termites

Quietly fed

on your soul’s timbers


Timber!   Down it all came one day

Lumberjack worms won

And you stood

in shock and dismay


[Before a worn out mirror– unable to look or look away]

In shock and dismay you began

Unable to see or hear

The horrible eyes and syllables

of those days

Those dazes of dissociation

When a tiny dancer had to hide

When werewolves razed her village


Her village where wolves today graze like sheep

Now perplexes wary witnesses

How could these sheepish wolves be predators?


Predators prey on those who pray in vain

Whose veins are broken by angry jaws

that gnaw their victims on wooden stakes


With wooden stakes the shepherds watch their flocks

Of wolfsheep in green pastures

“My sheep know me and I my sheep”

“And I know they will attack me

If I don’t play along”

Say the shepherds impaled on wooden stakes.


Somewhere between the poisoned toothpick

and the cold steel heart knife.




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