pack, words

the hounds of disappointment nip my heels

i get ready for something i don’t want to do, in a crowded room, the thin layers of clothing the only protection from the ravenous maws

fetid breath on my neck

a wrong number on the phone

would gladly sit home and talk to you all night

whisper sweet nothings into your ear

but that is not how it works

how any of it works

opened myself to allowing this to happen

should have known the results

past experience and all

feel the skin break as the jaws clamp down on my achilles tendon, leg gives out, crawling away


no sense of self or direction

just a blood stained sock

no point continuing to try and escape them

now they have the taste to go with the scent

feast you bastards

i have no more to give


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