Visceral Contagion
As I stand here, unconvinced
of all of your humanity,
doused with all of your antagony,
thick, viscous dregs of your contempt
leak so fervently, and so stifling,
over the raw, gaping holes of my nose and mouth,
like bloody, gangrenous wounds,
pounded viciously into unrecognizable slabs of meat,
ripped apart and torn, hanging,
dangling against my cheeks,
dripping with that contempt,
and destroyed, unavailing,
from overuse.
As I stay here, in denial
of all of your indifference,
my skull fractured and cracked
with the pulsing of so many useless emotions,
your venomous stare spits
like the bright green acid
of some menacing Amazonian flower,
and swells like a poison deep inside
the putrid sockets of my eyes,
rotting and dead,
no longer used to see
but to accept the progeneration of your hatred,
breeding like maggots
deep within my mind.
And as I will not leave here, content
with all of your vitality,
I have died here.
And while my hands,
they write,
my body,
it breathes,
my soles,
they hold me firmly against the earth,
my quintessence stubbornly decays,
rancid and sick,
until what is left,
but your hatred,
your contempt,
your indifference,
and your spit
upon my grave?
But this is what I choose, happily,
and devoid of fear,
preferable to a death
without life at all.
- kathryn
