A Cannibal’s Mentality: A Poem

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I didn’t dare to say your name.

I thought that I would end up in that same room again.

In your midst.

In your murdering spider web.

I heard your voice and its terrors in every corner

Of my brain, spreading the hatred,

Clashing with my attempts to break free.

 

I saw your face everywhere

And felt my accelerated heartbeat,

To run, run,

Run so far away from you or strangers

With your perfume or hairdo,

Carrying the same bag or walking around

The city with your face,

The way make-up accentuated your face,

The way your scent lingered,

The songs you loved and listened to,

Playing themselves into my bonework.

Endless repercussions, of you, of the

Exhausting taste you left behind.

 

You behind the camera, you pulling

The strings so hard

Around my neck

From above

Your puppet

Punch, punch, the clock, the doll,

Everything about me,

Burying my footsteps.

 

My face on the floor.

Your eyes on me.

The attacks you planned.

I could already envision my freedom.

That’s what kept me alive.

A world without you.

The paralysing schemes you weave

Around people,

People that you proclaim to love and adore,

That you attract with feigned niceties

And assassinate with a weighed down shadow

That they don’t know exists, behind their backs,

You find their Achilles heel,

Waiting for them to

Reveal it to you because they trust your

Love, and you fucking abuse it, use it

Against them, poisoning them from

The inside out,

You beast and raptor.

 

Your wings are made out of dead skins and

Deracinated feathers of bodies that don’t belong to you

And you play the peacock, you thief, you beggar

Without the posture and sound, you shapeshifting

Deceiver, abuser of words that still had a meaning before

You dropped bombs into other people’s lives

And halved them to death and fulfilled yours temporarily.

woman sitting on brown ratan chair
Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.com

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