Forge the heart in furnace

A dog howls in the night. A leaf crunches underfoot. I cringe to recall the time I came home drunk and, feeling slighted, demanded that you acknowledge my body. I am rarely so hot-tempered, though I remember another time, walking in pitch darkness through forest and muttering, rape me, to the world at large. Why do I bring such matters up? Is it just to forge the heart in the furnace of desire?

Advertisements

Art is ephemeral; so add to the pot...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s