It’s MY pie

by on October 5, 2009 :: 0 comments

I slip, incognito
into the blindness of the day,
happy to meander sightless,
braille touch to hot coals
while my goose is cooked,
tender to the knife
and obviously forked up.

A morsel for your mercy,
tasty poison in a loving cup,
delivered in a rendered sauce
for a hypocrite’s gander.

I duck from the solar flares,
far from the gamma rays
of exploding suns,
run to the icy regions
where the spots don’t reach,
cool in my unique sameness.

Delivered ready to eat
into the fires of my own making.
Captured in the hungry mouth
of a jealous Satan,
I have stolen from him
my own little slice
of Hell.

Leave a Reply