Onion Cries

“Onion Cries”
WARNING: a DARK poem, disturbing theme.

It once swayed, like a leaf. Until it fell, like death-
It was you, with eyes of mold and bark- russet lush
Defying and conquering a world which you loved
Now with my pools leaking, I wipe the bitter array.

There’s your skull, vacuumed of intelligence
The flesh had been clawed without mercy
You were alive; ears could shatter at mercy pleas
Another tear falls, this one lands in your retina.

It would be a sorrowful moment, if not witnessed
Instead repugnant, with clogs of my vomit in drying blood
A forensics nightmare of organs excessively discombobulated
That is, if the remains continue to stay scattered.

With another tear, my bitter hand’s wipe my nose
The auras of death fumes kindle my senses
I can see no more- my eyes, they close
Helping the drought, with salted springs.

Do not feel sorrow, for my pitiful state-
The garnish of garlic and onions, they sting
I weep of the intoxicated fumes within the vegetables
As I cut with a knife, used to disjoint your carcass.

Insanity, lunacy, a psychotic male husband-
You had cheated, congressed with a man of riches
I laugh as your garnish is prepared for the roast
Before time's up, I devour the crime.