It’s the terror of knowing what this world is about
Hedonists dance from dusk ’till daylight
holding on to bottles, aluminum caps and illicit
scraps scattered all over neon-lit floors,
Hideous beasts reside within monsters wearing
human skin, preying on the kind and the meek,
the gentle and the weak, manipulating with
insipid streaks of sly smiles and half-lies
Scattered screams break through the pavement.
A woman is struck, a child cowers in the dark,
trembling before the legend of the epitaph of the
man turned beast, tale as old as time, toxic
rancid fuming suffocating father figure
Seen one too many
Pitiful soul contorted beyond recognition,
beaten down with bitterness, long-lost principles
thrown down the drain
To which it is no surprise that some of us created religion
to envision retribution
for these sinners
It’s the terror of growing up
Knowing of the monsters
that live
among men.
arthouse memoirs_ 