Escape to Hate.

I spilt some beans
I’d brought them over
from my apartment uptown.
They were my beans.

The can hadn’t even been opened
but upon impact
they surged out
like a pack of slimy orange hornets.

Across the floor and up the walls
’till the whole room was
coated and stank of tomato flesh.
The light coming in through the
window was stained red and dark.

You were screaming and
the beans had gone
in your mouth,
up your nose,
through your shirt.
Trying to uproot your
fingernails, it seemed.

We burst from the room,
I’d kicked out the door,

Retiring to your room for a spot of
sexual violence.
I fell asleep with you tugging
at my hair and softly
pulling out my teeth.


13 thoughts on “Escape to Hate.

  1. This was so good, it made me chuckle.
    I love the tugging my hair and softly pulling out my teeth.
    Genius move.
    You did a fabulous job with the images here.
    So good, I’m telling you I could see the whole thing as the stanzas progressed.

    Hats off,

  2. Thanks Kim. I don’t know. There’s certain things, certain words, that when I use them make the poem very clear and definite. Teeth and tears are 2 of them. I’m glad you liked.

    Vesper, Glad you liked it. I really don’t know WHERE this came from. I guess I was toying with the phrase “Spill the beans” as in “tell your secret” but that if you took that literally. Sometimes people don;t like what you have to ‘spill’.
    And then I just had this image of the beans completely covering somebody and going into every orifice. I have no clue how my brain works.

  3. Maybe use a line from the poem, like using the first line as your title. Or, you could call it a spot of sexual violence, or beans on the cieling. Or, getting back at me for the beans. Beans, I had them for dinner

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