poet reincarnate


tonight again, most likely,
i'll retreat into this sheltered lair
to lick the day's fresh wounds
with scaly tongue;
to poke toothpicks through my bloodshot eyes
and pluck them out like grapes
in the most superstitious hope
that what i cannot see can't hurt me.
i despise all homo sapiens
and fear those most
who look at me with empty eyes.

someday soon, i'll change my ways:
i'll go nocturnal.
during the day, i'll lounge inside my cave
with my tail curled up around me,
spitting magic acid on my blind mirror
in an atavistic ritual of madness.
on still summer nights,
when thick, dark clouds hide all those tiny eyes,
i'll wander out,
i'll sneak into your bedroom while you dream,
gently breathe into your ear
and set your brain on fire.

© Mark E. Dougherty