"Upon Hearing the News of Mr. Williams' Death"

Upon Hearing the News of Mr. Williams’ Death           

Monday, August 11, 2014, 4:20pm

 

He cut himself today,
just to watch himself bleed.

With each drop of crimson

splashing across the unspoiled tile,
he imagines a raging demon meeting
an untimely death, smashing headlong
against the pristine porcelain.

One by one he subdues his oppressors,

silencing them for yet another
day, their power drained
with each meticulous droplet
spreading across the pure stone.

Counting to twenty, he wipes

a rag across the inviolable ceramic,
pain cleansed away, no camouflage,
just flawless absorption, white cotton
defeating dark demons. 

Another slice, a new count,

twenty more down, cloth soaked,
but never to capacity, for however
many are released, just as many
are standing at the ready. 

The reins are tightened

before euphoria reigns, that elusive
place between pain and release.
Precision is key, never too deep;
privacy crucial, always hidden away.

The rag of ritual

dries hard as stone,
getting tossed out with
the evening trash, disposed of
completely, no reminder, no pain...

but in the very last moment

before closing the lid, he offers
a little prayer over the loss of life,
for the raging perdition throughout
is no less essential than the story within.

He cut himself today,

just to watch his story bleed.
 
 
 
 
                 ~~~
 

First published in Dead Snakes / August 25, 2014

http://deadsnakes.blogspot.com/2014/08/cristine-gruber-two-poems_25.html