Something in the Oven

[traceofwater]

Porcelain as a stove
Molded by wicked hands
Inner furnace cloves
More evil errands;
I find myself a witness
In rotund rotten business.

Silent as the wind
Within the air you breathe;
Forces by which you sinned
Make my innards seeth;
I'm watching the clocks
Every tick and tocks.

Like the sewage you dropped
Like the plastic you forgot
Brewing and stewing, I can't be stopped -
Beyond direction, I can not
No never remember
How much I was dismembered.

Red hot like a flashing bulb of light
And steaming like a sweltering star
I use distance to avoid the fight
To avoid the speech about the scar -
I'd rather let it burn
Than give you what you yearn.

And here I am in all my rage
In sadness and depair
All of it in a sick, heated cage
Just to commiserate that you don't care.