BAD DREAMS.

[dadio]

She slept poorly, had bad dreams, and always
He was in them somewhere, and even when
She was awake and lying in her bed
Looking out of the window at the cold

Approaching day, his image was still there
And wouldn’t go away. She’d tried scrubbing
Her skin and bathing night and day in the
Hottest of waters and the purest of

Soaps and oils, but still he seemed to cling
To her bruised and tainted skin. She wants him
Out of her memory, the things he did,
The undoing of her, the rape, the slow

Unhinging of her mind, the bruising of
Her flesh and break of bone. She wants him gone,
Each particle of his touch and feel, each
Look he gave, each word he spoke. She needs

To be untouched, unfelt, untainted and
Unbruised by him; each aspect of viewing
Him, each scene, each view; she wants to be whole
Again, not hurt or damaged, not black and

Blue. She sleeps poorly still; the night buries
Her in dream after dream, him still there, the
Perpetual rape, the endless chilling
Scream after scream. She plots her revenge each

Waking moment, imagines the plunging
Dagger, the shot of gun, the deadliest
Of ends; but nothing comes of it, no cure,
No ease, no peace for nothing ever mends.

[stilltrucking]

a bad poem
but still a good poem
I hope you understand what I mean

interesting art
somewhere in mysurfing this morning I stumbled across it in a movie revue. A French film about revenge — Noe?

[dadio]

Thank you, stilltrucking. Art by Egon Schiele.