Fear in a handful of Dust
Fear in a pint of Must
Fear in the letters on a Page
Fear in the sadness of Age
She screams. With panic more than Pain
She feels it now in her veins:
The controlling pressure,
An offensive gesture, and
Filled with insulting pleasure
In the end . . .
She lies bent . . .
On the floor, her hair unkempt
Violated and Spent.
The sadistic grin on The Man of Sin
Sheds light on simple laughter – He laughs
A stone falls without a call
It splashes in water
Ripples and waves
Its echo spreads –
Yet he still lingers
Over her body, with that sadistic grin
His weapon drops, both of them