This is as close as I get


The scent of your pain
is distended bellies
ready to explode
a cloud of decay and death
waiting to engulf
and embrace

I have learnt a lesson finally

My fathers belt taught me
that welts heal
aches fade
and if I grit my teeth
the first strike will be less than
agony
and more than I can bare

Feral and skittish
I skirt the borders of the hedge
able to secret within the
curling confusion of branch and twig

There is a Mac truck waiting for me
to make a break for the water
across the road

It has my name
scrawled in absurd
swirling script
flames leaping from the letters
spelling out how my blood will
look in splatter pattern.

I love the throb of its motor
as it approaches though