Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge!

The Victim

He can feel it leave him
slipping through his bloodied fingers
like a fist full of water
it oozes out in slow crimson
eyes wide and frozen
mouth twitched and hung open in gaping agony
choking, searching for a scream
only to find it replaced with a warm,
thick liquid-gurgle
terror strickened he becomes
as his body painfully betrays him in rigid snapping spasms
his vision blurs as numbing fire-needles dart up his spine
to the base of the skull
one by one
life functions flicker like dying church candles
making it more and more difficult
to exist
the moments seem to slow down,
almost stopping to watch
struggle to be
his heart sprints,
fighting to accommodate
growing weary from overload
lungs flood with warm thickness
mind swells with panic
each breath
shallow and effortful
more cherished
than the one before
while blood bubbles its way to the surface
chasing up the back of his throat,
gushing warmly over the tongue,
dripping through the teeth
before splattering clean on linoleum tiles like new art work
He is in shock
face fixed in blatent disbelief
eye to eye with his murderer
as he slowly slumps down
falling to his knees
desparatly gripping the hemn of her skirt
with his bloodied palm,
the other hand clutching the kitchen knife in his chest
as weak eyes roll to the back of his skull
in darkness
And then it ends
whimpering and frantic
She stands there
over his now empty shell
frozen in tears
that sting the cuts under her swollen dark eyes
her mouth flushed with the metallic taste of blood
her blood
nursing her broken arm
wanting to scream but the fracture in her jaw prevents it
battered and bruised
broken and shattered
in mind and body
she stands there
A survivor
with his crimson life-liquid on her now trembling hands
She warned him not to beat on her again
She warned him.

Written by L. E. Colston II


Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge