It's barely harnessed...
this underlying benevolence that leaks out
from the corners of her disingenuous remarks.
It breathes beneath the surface of her deception
and I watch it straining against the leash
bug eyed and wanting.
Fuck how it strains!
Moorings are no match for this evil...
this way that it bloats
Part of me wants to sit court,
wait for the kind arrangement of features to crack...
watch the lava erupt from her boiling core
her face breaking off and carried away
like little toy boats
disintegrating and helpless in the molten bath
But the wiser self knows
I am a paper craft, and no match for fire.
I row my distance and watch her self destruction
with a telegraphed eye.
(Co-workers. Gotta love 'em. Or not.)
.
.
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