PSYCHOACTIVE

 

“A slap on her face will do her well,” he said ...
... As he spanked the butter onto his uneven stack of pancakes- Sipping down his tall glass of milk,.
I could almost hear a thump of virtue.

A heart, growing weaker.

“A lamp to her head will wake her up,” he said... .... As he blasted the horn so loud-
Perhaps his mother could hear it.
At that instant I could hear a shriek of torture

A soul, stepped on.

“A shove off the terrace would compile her thoughts,” he said... ... As he smoked his cigarette-
Watching the sunset.
I could almost feel a teardrop splatter across the floor

A woman, oppressed.

“A knife in her veins would help her decide,” he said... ... As he sat down on the dining counter-
And began to dissect his piece of stale chicken.
I could feel the weight of the world

A mind, controlled.

“A glass of milk would make her mine,” he said... ... As he popped his daily pills-
Instantly knocking him out.
I am content

A day, over.

“Good morning Darling,” he said... ... As he woke up in bed-
Alone.