Beyond

I.

You drew some blood.  A gruesome flood poured out

From both my nostrils.  Brief sangria spout

Preceded quite a heavy mucus load.

Your levy cued a levee to explode.

Vibration blurred my outline, could have sawed

The hardest armor, skived the hide of god.

A driving plot began to stir each cell

And guide my body's turn to purge, rebel.

When you were gone, I opened up the fridge,

Frustration grew, which I could not abridge.

A plastic pitcher pulled this prompt response:

Unfastened zipper; drip to drop, ensconce.

My penis cried its swift urea tears,

Then genius tried a shift from old arrears.

(Throughout the years, diluting instant tea

Accrued amusement via lengthy spree.)

You stole from me, the tax was never lax

And grabbed up all the chances to relax.

My nonage had no knowledge of relief,

Through bondage bore your nonsense-born belief.

Enlisting fist or spit or random skelp

As method best professing zest to help

Resisted any logic.  You should die,

Desist from your existence.  I'll deny

Compassion just like you refused to own

That which you did.  I know no clueless drone.

Those no-nos were ignoble motions meant,

Noetic defect honed by your intent.

A sample list would have examples missed,

Like ample kicks and trampled kid dismissed.

Your hiking boot, it left a dermal print,

Memento pressed by fleshed, infernal mint.

Potatoes, peas--remainder dotting plate--

Conflicted with the prior stuff I ate.

My stomach wrenched, withholding hold.  I felt

Upheaval.  Sludge was there to ram, bepelt,

And pummel my mucosa.  Lining wailed,

Then warring organ balked.  A launch prevailed.

Disgorging warm disorder on the floor

Presented me a second helping or

A fecund belt begetting many welts.

(I told myself regretting any belts

Was old behavior.)  Tile met my knee.

You screamed at me to eat.  You had to see

Your step-son use a fork for slurping puke.

For this, I carry more than mere rebuke.

(My mouth could feel the shock of cooling pool,

As though the tines were dragged in Jotunn drool.)

When details rip amnesia, gurgle through,

I wonder how much wergild I could do.

II.

I'm feeling artistic, a bit dyslogistic.

Dislodging your ribs till you're not monolithic

Has entered my musing; a core should be broken,

Its torso torn out like a roast with the bone in.

But body as fodder for Dada won't render

The reason you wanted esprit to surrender.

A seminal threat to the genital region

In general speeds up confession-cohesion.

I'd tie you with rope to a chair in the basement--

My underground lair of revenge and debasement.

The distance created by blading a cestus

Could clip my suspicion of touching your testis.

Your oblong anomalies probably transmit

A sudden cachexia free of an ambit.

Some gloves could allow a barrage till I'm giddy

From answers you give me on why you were shitty.

The stabbing would likely inspire some lying,

But payoff would come from the mortified crying.

So after performing my rough laceration

I'd laugh that you're leaking from subclass' serration,

Then spit imprecation from rictus inflicting

The ultimate imagery done for afflicting.

Sincerely, activity I was describing

Is fabulous, merely chimera's inscribing.

Maturity hardened a floe of emotion

That fatally froze my despicable notion.

Predictable slogan of "fighting for closure"

Was crafting my sanity's grand discomposure.

If you died a tyrant or deified father

Of misery, specter would certainly bother

Forever.  No vengeance can cleanse the infection

Rejecting perspective's corrective reflection.

Admittedly, history ownership fled me,

I let you beset me with frenzy, which bled me.

I clawed at my eyelids when surely retaining

A grip on my life is what should have been reigning.

Reclaiming the prior events that were ceded

Can start with the chopping of legend I seeded.

Omnipotent villain is killed by a backhand!

Though proud of my knuckles, I'm waiting to grandstand.

The giant I swatted fell down as expected,

And here is the triumph--he stands, resurrected.

Cantankerous caitiff replaces cadaver,

He's witless and wandering, wanting to blather.

He talks of the Step-code, commitment to violence,

I grab both his shoulders to manage compliance.

"The moments you took will be in my possession,

No longer the spoils of cruelty obsession.

I'm turning your being to memory-jetsam;

Regarding comeuppance, I won't help you get some.

A freebie was owed me, so that's why I hit you.

Our bond is depleted...I fucking forgive you."