27 – Just Desserts

Yeah, okay, well, what’s important is that I amused myself, right?

You feel a great weight settle on your chest,
as if the hand of god Himself came down
and thrust into your chest His thorny crown
and you began to bleed at His behest.

Surely this is punishment for your sins –
for surely that must be the breath of hell.
It must be rotting bodies that you smell
as fatalism lets the monster win.

As will to live retreats, the world goes black.
You can no longer feel the creature’s teeth.
Dimly you imagine your family’s grief
if they should find you dead when they get back,
suffocated, utterly crushed beneath
the stinking breath and rump of this fat cat.

Check out the rest of the 100 Sonnets

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