Destroyed

in the dark, dank, bleak, hollowed-out
corners of my mind,
the ones that crawl and creep and leap --
the ones that I loathe to find,
there lie still, like puddles of venom,
all the piles of all the fake smiles
and the trails of miles that came with 'em
scattered about, but lying in wait, waiting
for a twist of fate or a taste of something --
maybe revenge, maybe just a bit of
schadenfreude,
something to pass the time when I'm
annoyed
at all the bites and slashes I've endured
as I have been destroyed.



January 4, 2009.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.