Listen,

the muse sings to the

pulling of weeds, to the

piling of bricks, to the

scrubbing of plates.

The muse sings to the

earthbound, to the occupied,

to souls in revolt against

menial days. Silent cries

beckon loudest, prayers and

invocations be damned:

the muse will not be summoned

and scorns intention. She

cares nothing for your plans,

laughs at your blank page,

pisses on your offerings.

She will not bless self-anointed

poets who ransack corpses

for metaphors.

So move forward. Live.

Be about your business, turn

the grindstone, then breathe.

Breathe. Listen.

The muse sings to those

hungriest for song.

Like a fly upon the wall

my status far from clear,

a-waiting an a-whistled call

with anxious, pinned-back ears;

the chance to walk, or fetch a ball,

small things that so endeared-

me to your heart, God-damn it all

have all but disappeared.

Invisible, dismissible, impalpably I crawl,

wishing somehow you might hear,

perceiving my paw-fall.

And pat this head, or drop a tear -

for friendship unresolved.

You suck for making me the saddest I have ever been.

You suck for making me cry until my tears run out.

You suck for giving me hope.

You suck for making me love you.

You suck for disintegrating in front of my eyes.

You suck for leaving me wondering what is wrong with me.

So, since you like to suck so much, here are my toes.

It was your birthday when you told me you think you love me.

I asked you to tell me one more time that you loved me.

Just to make sure I heard you right.

When you told me that you think

You love me,

The first thing I thought of was

He is so damn drunk.

As you began to

cry

I began to believe you a little bit more.

But you were drunk,

And that is why you were crying.

Right?

You have seen me cry more times than I am comfortable with.

If it were up to me, you would have never seen me cry.

I hate hearing you shush me as I hyperventilate into you shoulder.

I hate when you have to remind me to breathe whenever my sobs become too powerful.

If it were up to me, you would always see me

happy.

I couldn’t stop staring at you.

I had never seen anything,

Felt anything,

Lived through anything as beautiful and as indescribable

as that moment

when you told me

You loved me.

I told you how beautiful you looked to me in that moment, too,

And you shook your head.

But I was in awe of the way you looked.

So innocent and sweet.

Like I had never seen you before.

In that very moment,

I felt important.

It was like everything I had been doing my whole life,

Every decision

Every fear,

thought

and experience

Lead me to that moment with you.

My eyes never lost sight of you as

I wiped your warm tears away.

My lips slightly parted in surprise when

You told me

you had not cried

In over 5 years.

I am still in shock

Or denial

Or maybe I just don’t believe you

Because I keep having to remind myself of the night

You told me you think you love me.

I am sorry I didn’t tell you I loved you back.

I have never had a boy tell me they loved me.

I didn’t know boys were capable of love,

And I sure as fuck didn’t think

I was capable.

I do not know what love is.

I have never believed in it.

Until now.

After the inspection moved to the warehouse, without preamble, he picked up a meat hook and ran her through. From the floor, her defense was feeble.  The hook was an anchor, and bloody floors have no traction. 

 With the air of repetitive manual labor, the hook was spun into the right position and attached to a chain.  Her legs were bound, and like all the other cuts of meat, her body was hung upside-down.  

"You'll understand soon.  This is what you are," affectionate pat on her flank and he was gone.

The time for screaming had passed, voice hoarse and breath shallow and wet. Tears and blood flowed in rivulets across her face; some coagulating in her hair, the rest dripping onto the tarp below. Despite the pain, she strained her fingers towards the perfect, mesmerizing red puddles. 

 Best to keep moving. She wanted to bleed out before he returned.

You only have it 

When you can't have it 

A bad habit 

That's quick to commit

A feeling fit for the unfit 

With an unfettered grip 

And a slip from sanity 

Finding fantasy in the profanity 

Of a one way street

Loves like that

One oblivious 

Another in defeat  

"In full consideration of the overwhelming facts presented before us today, how do you judge these inhabitants of the Room?" asked the floor.

"Guilty," the first wall said.

"Guilty," the second wall said.

"Guilty," the third wall said.

"I don't know-- what does the reader think?" said the fourth wall, broken.