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Poem written with intent to be spoken aloud. Theme revolves around atrocious and vile acts.

Submitted:Jan 3, 2012    Reads: 18    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   

The story you are about to hear is clearly a robbery

Which no automotive insurance or homeowners insurance

Will cover and even if they did the deductable would be too high.

You see,

I was recently in my bedroom fucking a girlfriend of only weeks,

And over top of the squeaks of the mattress we were interrupted by an intruder

I could not tell if he was armed but his intent to inflict harm was present

And as I sprang from my bed, with no fear of lead penetrating my head

I was shocked to find that we were once again alone.

Frantically, I searched for a phone to dial the three digit code

Simple sequence, Nine, One, One

The operator asked my emergency, which for the life of me I could not describe

And as we sat silently awaiting the arrival of a law enforcement official

She began to weep.

The officer arrived to find no trace left behind to display any evidence of crime.

I know that my home was invaded.


I was disturbed that evening not by an intruder's physical being

I was disturbed that night by a sight which I hope you all will never see

The tender woman that lay beneath me began to sob calling out to God


Immediately, I pulled away from her body to the opposite end of the bed

Like I had just looked into the eyes of the dead

And she just lowered her head, and continued to cry.

At that moment I understood.

After much silence she raised her head slowly

Only to show me the mascara dripping down her face

Reminding me of a time and place earlier that evening that she felt pretty

Now this smeared mascara was the artwork of a nightmare

Resembling a mural her attacker painted years earlier with a spray can on a bridge

Before he removed her cool heart from the fridge and placed it in the freezer.

The thief had invaded her personal home

With coercion fueled with perversion for a ten minute excursion

That ruined her life

And as she told me story about the stout man who had robbed her

My vision began to blur and I traveled to her body in that moment, five years ago

And I felt her fear, powerless and impotent

A wretched force over my limp body

The taste of salty tears and the ripping of skin

And the dripping of blood down your leg

Have I made myself clear?

It was fucking awful.

And there is nothing more I would adore to see

Than that man doused in gasoline and lit ablaze

In hopes that it might ignite the light of fire in her heart that has long burnt out

And every layer of flesh that drips into a puddle

Would be a year of pain and trouble that he caused

But I can't do that.

So I understand why the insurance company will not cover this claim

And the blame should not be rest on them because they don't cover this kind of theft

Because it's far easier to recover…




But how in the fuck do you restore the mental health

And sense of self of a sixteen year old girl raped on a side street

In the back seat of a Pontiac Grand AM?

You can't.


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