2.
I admit
she frightened me
her red-hair and her daily fury
always in secret afternoons of terror
like with my father and my other lovers
I learned to wait
then explode
3.
all these pretty words are charms
salves for a filthy soul
not one of them reveals the real
beast that fuels these feelings
the anger and hate and lust
all bent towards ending
this humiliating existence
this whimper of being
4.
some I know
wander through rooms singing
and it makes being worthwhile
and breathing easy
some I know have belief
and no fear of dying
unlike me
5.
while tonight I write this
in my grey sweater and comfortable jeans
listening to the sound of old pipes and crawling things
the countdown and the ticking
afraid of loving
longing for one
to save me
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