I see your evil grow like leaves of flowerless orchids
uglily spread from the base. I can feel your rapine stare
like torchlight in my eyes that I have to squint at
or hide away from, my treasures all at risk. When all I want to do
is to give you a blank unwelcome open-eyed glare
as blank as the walls of my home waiting
for the decorum, free of your tyranny and treachery,
free of your infection and thuggery. I want to rip
your vestments and stake your heart through the ribcage
that hides the truth about yourself. You have fangs and hands.
You seem to have aptitude for each of their tasks.
Does your clandestine evil slither into the hole of shame
But is yours the crevice of your all-consuming soul
Tolerance is an orchard whose fruit is eaten by greed
But it sustains, somehow. Does good need evil to know it is good?
And I wish to tell you, however broke I am of anger
that you can go if you want to go, that you telepathically threaten me
(when all you do is selfishly create more trouble for me)
For all your threats of going away and leaving my lot
that you think is vulnerable to vindictive powers without you
I swear God’s country doesn’t beseech the locusts to stay
And it always has the resilience to regenerate any way
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