marble and quicksand - a poem collection.

darwinism

he looks at me the way a hunter looks at its prey,

his tone calm and soothing, but his eyes

revealing his true intentions, the

mask not concealing his gaze.

he holds me in his arms the way he holds his gun,

mercilessly, unforgiving, intending to cause

pain and suffering, only to satisfy his desires,

survival of the fittest.

my blood on his hands, the bittersweet smell

blooming in the room like a flower in springtime,

his panting, moaning ringing in my ears, getting

louder and louder, until suddenly it is dead silent.

as the sun is rising behind the curtains,

the world is getting darker and darker for me.

slowly fading into nothingness, i look him in the eye

and i find myself looking at the lord of the flies.