Friday, December 5, 2008


all the poetry 
got me the girl.
who turned out 
not to be real.

i thought 
she was young,
and wise beyond her years.
i thought 
i was old enough 
to know better.
i was wrong twice.

she was a pro.
while i - oppressed - 
had simple 
amateur status.

she was 
a death wish.
i was 
a trick.

this truth - her truth
was hidden by an
exterior swathed in knock-off linen
and tiffany-like c.z.s
intended for mere deception—
her natural state of being.

i couldn't see straight,
and that was on purpose.
she was
ready to pounce.
ready to asphyxiate.
ready to kill.

she taught me
venom is woman
and nothing more.

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