I tremble to think of you,  Am I afraid of you or only angry? Did you ever think I would forgive you?  Impertinent, son of a seafarer.I tremble at your presence,  Imagined or real.You will never touch me again.I back away at the thought of you,   Rapist.  Demon-spawn.Strip away the centuries, look behind the Young Kingdoms When the Edge of Chaos was beyond the Boiling Sea.My eyes born blind were always able to see the truth.The wrist you nearly tore off as you leaned full upon it so I would not       gouge another ounce of your flesh,Numbing cold fingers...Beast.  I spit on your image. Black irised eyes in a pale white face, only marred by the bruises of       your demon-possessed delivery. And you dared to tell me you would be different.And I dared marry you.Nothing could protect me from you...the curse so strong,But you could not bear children of demon-rape upon my corpse. I have forgotten your name, else I would send you fears worthy of the        nightmares you gave to me.I tremble to think of you...   In anticipation of an old lover's touch,   My fingers embrace you with joy, Wrapped tightly around your throat,   They squeeze...My hands wield the knife to slash your hands off, To dig into your eyes until you are blind, To mark your skin so you appear to all as the beast you are to me.

© 1993 The Crisses

you live in a world of
make-believe where your
egocentric duplicity is the norm
and the half-truths you spew
to the winds fall on waiting ears
which nod in accordance of all you say
the faulty memories you reminisce
are but a painting rendered by
your own desires and guilty conscience
for what resides beneath
those vanilla skies
lash out if you must
to feed your hunger for power
and the need for a semblance of control
but your bitter accusations
can find no stable ground
when the foundation is forged
of fog and selfishness
and when it all clears everyone
will know your selfless acts
for the catalysts they truly were