the sidewalk always glows at night-
a life-draining maggot fountain
where the men get drunk,
not to be caged again until monday.
he doesn't need to look her in the eye,
lets the maggots do his work for him
he is a god, he is a revelation
sadly,
only in his own eyes.
frothing at the moustache
foaming at your itchy palms
it makes me want to kill but i show no reaction.
i shouldn't think myself any better
than the apes i detest with every living inch-
afterall what do i have but my depressing teenage twitches
but she told you, "no, fuck off."
still you insist at a hidden meaning
you were a god, a fucking revelation
sadly,
only in your own eyes.