beast

3:31am and all I see

at the back of my lids

is how your hair twists not
curls
how you howl and whimper not
cry

how every verb you carry out

is an animalistic version of what most of us

normal beings lack the capacity to

portray.

3:32am and you’ve made

11 trips around my head

each peregrinate increases exponentially

and the trial you leave

begs for someone to follow

it is your forte:

lacerating your initials

into my skin

the way beasts mark their

territory.

3:33am and I am a carcass

revolting and rancid

my bones have endured your mastication

my remains

an open invitation to scavengers

I reek of your scent

even in my atrophy

your athanasia prevails.