The Boston Strangler Lives? Part 2©

by Mr. Darcy   Aug 12, 2008


London - my salvation?

I leave the cafe and make my way back,
Down streets that I once hoped would provide still,
But evil doesn't rest, her words still smack.
My brain's fabric is wrung, spilling a shrill.
"You useless bastard runt, you disgust me!"
Everyday she spat this filth and punched my face.
Hate stabbed my soul, injecting its debris
Such venom creates a mind of disgrace.
Her words raped me, so I raped her icon,
Allowed my furnace to beast its desire
Venting pain; strangling it with nylon
Praying for my freedom as their lives expire.
These London streets don't tremble like Boston
There, ladies valued their lives, or, lost 'em!

M. Moran ©
Copyright 2008

    report violation
0


Did You Like This Poem?

Latest Comments

  • 15 years ago

    by Goodbye

    Wooo...spooky. Getting inside his head.

    I think you succeed to get the scenery painted perfectly.

    These sentence were capturing my attention: "Her words raped me, so I raped her icon,
    Allowed my furnace to beast its desire"

    Wonderful job.

  • 15 years ago

    by Mister 47

    Wrung?? this word is right ??or you mean wrong?>
    runt? i dont knwo this word cna you please explain to me waht you mean by it ?

    uhm frist i would tell you doing a 1 block poem is not good for readrer eyes in my opignion , this amke the reader eye a bit bored and afirad to read for the frist time ,

    so i think it is better if you cut down to stanzas ,

    but i think it was good expression

More Poems By Mr. Darcy