A blue fog cozied up and kissed
the cherry red sand where he bent and picked out
pieces of seaglass
I stood above him up the seachannel on a black rock promontory smashing bottles
to bitsto please his fingers and greed
a small token for a pitiful
soul
eventually
eventually he was pleased
but until he was pleased
he was a bitch
and
if any part of your life rubbed up against his you were bitched too
because
there was no shutting him up or down
frail and pale white
he
used his sickly attributes like pins and needles at voodoo dolls and when he
was
really bitched he slashed and stabbed the dolls with knives and shivs
without apology
or seeking forgiveness
like a forlorn priest inside a confessional who learns your shame derides you then lifts
the gauze curtain and spits in your
face
and yet I can accept him
because I can see
him
I can find him easily
at least he is honest
however there are others who
hide inside their skin and are equally as appalling
I am wary of them
wary of the
cool green glint in their eyes that camouflages or deflects their tell
and stops me from seeing in
and inside their head
it
refracts their perceptions and acuity until only slivers of light and spectrum
remain to
inform them
legally blind
they divine their way and ours
but at our Xpense
and Revealed
I know the bitched deviate acts
better
1654, Monday,
13 10. 14
2339, Tuesday,
14 10. 14
