Sometimes I like to imagine
Just for the sake of my pleasure
The sight of your face in a blender,
While you writhe on the ground,
Broken and bleeding like prey,
Stuck in the mouth of a lion,
While I sit there laughing,
With crowbar in hand
And a smile on my face.
It’s not so much caused by hate,
But more a failure to relate.
The thing we can’t share is space,
My actions won’t follow command.
So I’ll sit here absently crafting,
Your demise some day when I fly in,
Dismissing the words that you pray
When that knee’s bent the wrong way around,
Twisted like some car’s wrecked fender.
Made thus as a point of my leisure.