Stabbed

Stretched pendulums of time
Open your mind for its dinner
My son is your sinner
And you will fork double servings at him
Don’t wipe your mouth with his shirt
For he has stained his sweat with something better.

A phosphorus green has choked his grief
Believe he’s alone when he sleeps
Or is she.
And now he wears the stamp
Of the letter he never sent her.

Why is it so permanent
That damn stamp rubbed off on you..
And you can feel the anger
As he sleeps…
He does not shake
But his mortal wounds
Have bleed a thousand times

-Scott E Buttross

Copyright ©2004 Scott E Buttross