By Keith Hoerner

I am eternally caught in the poisonous web of your personal tragedies, floating in the eye of the tornado of your hatefulness – and inevitable eating of me.

Still, somewhere between your fast, your frequent, your furious back-and-forth feedings, I can feel the beating of your heart as it turns from crimson to black along each dying petal. This, but a pressed remnant of the love we could have shared.

You would have done me better to do me in swiftly, mercifully disabling my senses. But I was made to hang there, stuck and imprisoned with full consciousness, for your folly.


One thought on “Caught

  1. Yeah, I had one of those, once. The web doesn’t always seem so bad but–trust me on this–the wait is never worthwhile. It’s escape-able and (though it often seems like you don’t want to or, worse, can’t) you should.

    There are better webs out there, waiting for you.

    Great writing, this.


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