Hungry Monsters Writhing

Hungry Monsters Writhing
© Surazeus
2024 05 17

When he takes off his glasses he can see 
smears of blurry colors that might just be 
hungry monsters writhing trapped inside things, 
if he was not sure angels have no wings, 
so he reaches out hope in trembling hand 
to understand weird shadows of the land. 

With desperate gasp of raspy breath he tries 
to clean lenses of his glasses from skies 
smudged with bitter mud of ugly contempt 
so he can perceive truth to better attempt 
escape from splintered bat of brute disgust 
when he hunches behind brick wall in dust. 

Bellowing bull roar of his father shakes 
rotten wood stairs of his stupid mistakes, 
so he squeezes stinging eyes shut to hide 
devilish glare of rage from battered pride, 
then jumps at memory of the hard bat blow 
that charges gutted scream of moonless glow. 

Looming from shadow of slammed-open door, 
his father with viking face of horned gore 
growls command that he stand up on both feet, 
but his frail body, buzzed with wild heartbeat, 
lurches forward in self-defensive stance, 
startled by rapid flicker of his glance. 

Fingers smudged with tears gooping from his brain, 
he grips arms of his father with taut strain, 
like Jacob wrestling fierce angel of death, 
then, sucking deep tornado howl of breath, 
he winds tight coil of hot rage in his soul 
and slams his father hard at the wood pole. 

Tangled in shadow of electric lines 
that twists his frail body with voiceless minds, 
he swells with berserker rage of grim hope 
that he might grip reckless despair to cope 
with terror urging him to counterstrike 
oppressive abuser with martial spike. 

Slipping free from aggressive stranglehold 
of his father through gambit unforetold, 
he clutches bull-thick throat with clamping grip 
tight as crab claws netted on wave-wracked ship, 
then slams his father face down on sidewalk, 
who gurgles wordless blood in vicious shock. 

Standing tense over limp corpse of his sire, 
bruised and bloodied in freezing oil-slick mire, 
he gasps for breath till his frantic heart calms, 
wipes blood on his jeans from battle-smeared palms, 
then strides toward the unknown down signless road 
to find safe haven of the stoic toad.