Joy asked: In all seriousness, this is unfinished and still in its rough draft stages, and I need all the help I can get. What can be eliminated without taking away from the message of this poem? And what can be included? It is a narrative/ prose poem, if you will.
The Interrogation
Rows of pictures spread out before you,
of slain and severed victims,
And I think, a city should not be dotted with death.
Humanity should not disappear
Sparingly into sewers, piece by piece,
or float along canals.
But killer,
rivers wait for you, your bundles of burlap and tarp.
Canals flow to you like the loyal arms of a servant,
your patrons along riverbeds and flats;
They only exist in shadows,
among the cracks of light
provided them like a weekly wage, falling through the alleyways of alcoves,
like glowing fissures in a wall.
And the parchment rips,
the tar heel burns their feet,
as liquid rainbows seep beneath vehicles
and pass through torn leather.
And who knows what else dries and fades among the ooze,
the booze bottles and paper bags,
as vagrants and drifters are too drunk to remember
the ones who fell to your grip,
became a part of your cause.
You pulled straws in diners,
I am sure of it,
you bent them till they broke, they were expendable.
I can see you ruminating, reliving those events.
But I’ve still yet to learn
to escape your mind and return to mine,
as I am still beneath you,
your pillow, your sheets,
white flushed flesh
soft and submissive against your skin.
And the cracking leaves upon the pane,
they are my rigor mortis, my soul,
clawing your barred window.
I slipped inside you,
as you told a story for each body,
the vacant stare in your eyes–
despondent,
a dissenting rage waiting to piece them back together.
Four Tier Annihilation