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Contempt Has A Name

I stand naked wrapped only in the truth
you vile, loathsome reptile.
My contempt of you is limitless
as I have been force-fed your hypocrisy.
Your postulations are lost on me
as my insight into your repulsive nature
is exceeded only by the palpable stench of your aura.
Eyes opened to their widest apex,
ridiculously lends support to your “jokerish” 
smile overly exaggerated in a…
Carol Channing kind of muse.
It seems your purse a revolving door
to his wants, has an ideally broken clasp…
Your shoulder, a never ending
tissue to his every sorrow should be waterlogged.
Which stands to reason why your legs
stretched open as wide as the earth’s axis, 
“she-doggedly-in-heat” sniffs attention from him
and remains open like an all night 7-11 just to 
provide “respite” in the name of “friendship”.
You find joy in slinking and scurrying through
the misfortunes and/or gains in our life,
all the while professing your love to him 
and masticating on a stolen covenant
you have orchestrated in destroying.
There is no sector of my day
allowing me peace and escape from your 
treachery and continued debauchery. 
Your hair once a mousy shade of brown
now waxes blond in your further attempt 
to assure he remains suckled at your breast 
knowing his lust for blond haired, blue eyed
women that are six shades lighter than my ebony hues.
There is though, an appellative to my anguish,
which recoils from my tongue at 
any attempt to voice this rage.
Escalating anger marinates and broils within 
my breast as your ubiquitous presence
in my life has finally left me little strength
and no shelter from the uncloaked
vicious pain searing me to the core
in this deep abyss I have found myself in…
Unleashed fury beckons me, reaching back beyond now 
when day was night and night was only imagined
barely controlling this hate and 
the exigency to extract myself
from this nefarious, cheap, vaudevillian 
show, which no longer can be ratiocinated
through your insipid lies before I...
Can’t imagine your expending this much 
energy with your own household or husband because
you’re always living and breathing in mine!
Contempt has a name…and its malodor is…Linda.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

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