Hollywood

that squeaking is the sound of my hand
wiping the steam from the bathroom mirror
leaving a crude picture frame
with the photo of a girl
deep brown eyes
glinting something dangerous.
     i thought of you in the shower
as you invaded my mind
like vile nightmares often do
an image of you
grinning at me
in navy blue boxer-briefs
hollywood dripping from your eyes
toxic lies
pushing against your teeth
squeak...
     squeak...
          squeak.
broken picture frame
just cold glass.
the fog has risen
since i've been force-fed the lesson
that nothing gets easier
except forgetting your face.
     now my one last thought
is to run my tongue
up your throat
before i slice it open
one clean incision
to shut your deceiving mouth.
gurgle blood
and think of the day i let you touch me.
that's it baby
look at me
as i hurt you.


8.9.06