his malicious whispers,
gasping at the taste of love,
swalling whole the taste of absolute,
and solute, frivelous lumps of salt,
wiping away his tears,
he allows the clutter to be swallowed,
he blinks three times,
tells me nobody knows who he really is,
that nobody listens,
and this is my brother,
this is my flesh and blood, my lost child,
I look at them and ask,
“Do you enjoy the aftermath?”
Do you enjoy the sweetness it brings to your tongues,
to know that you are part of the creation that began this torment,
I wonder how he sleeps at night,
how he will grow to become a Man,
a Man of fight and flight,
but maybe he will not,
maybe one day he will take his life,
like I did many a time,
maybe he will not be here to tell his story,
and so I will,
I will paint the town in their blood,
wailing in agony,
I will bring hells garden into their front door,
I will become a sinner.