Cruelty is a Verb

Hallow intrusions. The calcified ruin of your heart, its unfolding.
Your nutrition is forsaken. Mine organics in the isles of forgivenesses. The challenge to falling metal, the airliner’s dream of surrender.
All a-choke with patterned mistakes. Your grooming habits over take all other principles of decency. Foreboding like a night on the hotel balcony. Prayers to liquor and the vista ocean.
Occlusion and insight betray me. I sit on the floor at your coffee table and eat lintels and plain yogurt. Nothing hurts. I smoke a cigar. It’s cheap. I plan an exit down the rattan mat you use for sleeping. It’s obvious.
Night tempers. You throw off the cat from the bed and lurch oven ward. A dream of suicide. The problems of modern decadence. The oven is microwave. It would be gruesome, but it won’t run with the door open.
What meticulous ruin? The size of prevention. Think about putting the cat in there. Cruelty is a verb.