stale breath and yesterday's deodorant
frantic,
pulsating eyes,
I turn my head as much is allowed
(it's not much)
insanity dances in his pupils
it's hard to believe that just thirty messages ago I was untouched
wrists tighten as I beg for release,
and his wicked grin lets me know it's not coming today,
there are more games,
evil manipulations that must be played out
across my skin
remnants of beef with broccoli and beer invade my nostrils,
(and oh, how lovely, no brushing today)
suppressing my gag reflex and trying to contain the tears
I pray silently, fervently, for my God to save me
(is that fair?)
but God can creep through the duct tape
and as my demon is preoccupied at his demented surgeon's table
I find my release (relief)
and as I slip
I am
gone
Silver trophy winner
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