Absolutely Twisted

You’re a goddamn monster,
she said,
so I ate her lungs
and spat them back out,
sung up to high noon
to destruct the tantric moon
that gave up on this
sunk sick city.

You’re cold,
she said
while I gnawed the gravel you gave me,
bleeding from my tooth’s eye
and I laughed
while I bled dry
to please the crowd
that gathered
chanting of my sin.

You’re sick,
she said.
I threw up my dying liver
from all that damn alcohol,
scraps of paper
with lines of filth
scribbled down,
hot ash from your cigarettes,
dragons’ tongues
that I had snapped from out of
their mouths,
potions and poisons
that could kill you
just by looking at you,
heat lamps,
circus camps,
shelving I thought Id
thrown away years ago,
a glossary of swear words in French,
the knife of my brother’s fallen,
the egg I ate whole
when there was nothing
left in the fridge,
the Venetian mask
I got when I was six
that told a story
of murder and the rape of women
that you thought was funny.

You’re twisted,
she said,
and I took out
my one good eye
and said,
yes ma’am
that my dear I am.