Michael

Wicked thoughts tossed across the room, with stuffed pillows and ancient trinkets

Bleeding heart pounding into dense ears

For why, what is happening?

Mind spies memories color coded like worn journal pages

Littered with memories of Michael

The friend, the confidante, the familiar stranger

Strong brown fingers hurt

Where before they healed

Pulling and stripping away sugar coated déjà vu’s

How do you prepare?

The faces of milk carton victims

Scream of faces, of eyes, of bodies unknown!

I await…

Barricaded behind bolted doors and infrequent defense classes

I await…

Shaking hands wrapped tightly around rubbered handles

And sharpened blades

I await….

Yet for the wrong one.

Michael’s eyes ring true of good friend, gentle soul

Designed to prove warrior to defend

A soul gentler than his own,

But they lie

Sweat beads litter his brow,

Furrowed deep into face full of hate

Oh the pounding won’t stop…

It just won’t stop…

Too prepared to battle the unknown

The hate that slides, scaled skin, through cracked windows

Through shifted walls

To pounce ever so panther- like upon vulnerability…

But he was late

And now familiar fingers, arms, legs

Penis… invade

Leave strange pain burned into my flesh

Who comes, when hatred pollutes the heart of friend

And lust envelopes soul of ally?

And fear becomes Michael?

Tears burning into hardwood floors

Worn from dancing

And pacing

And praying

Now worn from violations too inhumane to speak of

Where is the protocol? Where is the preparation…

Who gets the blame

Shall I be labeled victim,

To have my cause, my case, fought within the confines of heaven and hell?

For Michael to burn within corpse gray walls and rot in 8 by 10

To twiddle fingers that rip and scrape  and scratch and steal…

And rape

Or am I guilty, am I my own culprit?

Forced my own vengeance against my flesh, my own blood to seep into the floorboards

To dry and cry out like lost souls in purgatory, … in limbo

Life does not find me victim

It questions a sensible mind and deems her

LIAR

CHEAT

TRAMP!

Tramp!

Too wishy- washy to complete the promise

To seal the deal

To hold up my end of the bargain

For dinner translates sex

For dinner translates want to

Desire

For dinner, despite the scream, the fight, the tears, the fear, the incessant

NO…

Dinner, to Michael, means

TAKE

my friend Michael

innocent of trust

guilty of RAPE!