napowrimo: God of Torment (day 16)

you sink carnivorous teeth into the
sweetbread, lamenting that it tasted
more bitter than the hurt you
inflected on us.
we-
your cadavers reanimate to
your vitriol stirring everything
but life again. you wrap the
acrid with butchers’ twine,
and throw it at us but we’ve
been desensitized. our mouths
are no longer hospitable for
the sweet, or the kind;
it can only offer saplings
that will never bear fruit.
monotone voices that
mastered the art of
half-truths, rest uneasy –
this is not a practiced voice.
i wish to become unacquainted
with your insidious touch,
i know if i had the courage to
speak, you would have been
slain on day one – well, i
would have slain you
myself, but i’m unsure of whether
the company you keep would come
seeking vengeance. you drove us
to suicide, for better or worse,
we still have breath in our lungs
(i cannot say the same about our hearts),
with an appetite for light lost,
we’ve succumbed to the darkness,
biding the time, satiating ourselves
on the minimum , salting our earths.
we offer flesh, in an attempt
to be spared, yet you nibble
on the parts of us
untouched by sin.
tonight you wounded us
again,

and poetry was bled.

visual: https://imgur.com/r9I199x