In the Valley of Cain

it is the curse of Eve.

as Cain had slain Abel, so will His progeny.

there’s Whiskey in the jar, Knife on the chair

and a Grin on her face

she has done this before. she knows the Routine by rote now.

she Dreads beetles and ants,

but the sight of Blood spurting from the side of their heads – she loves it.

18 October 2009

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This entry was posted on Sunday, October 18th, 2009 at 5:40 am and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.

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