In Flagrante Delicto

Scales flake off like scabs of rusting paint

from New York City cabs,

I hate the speckled lies you spit

   beneath the whisper of hisses and friendly misses,

                 you tell everyone but me

of how you can't stand me,

when really it's all so beneath me,

         the deceit and malice under oath,

when your throat boils with the spoils of your own bile,

you vile snake, worthless fake of a friend.

I'm sorry, was my back too brittle

for your dull knife you tried to settle in there?

Personality processed, like your decaying hair,

    why don't you stay awhile

& listen to me spit rhymes

about this time

                     I slayed a beast of a gossip,

                                    the fiend buried, seething atop
                                                              a dollop of her own remains,
Not golden, but

Folded arms like jagged pieces of metal,

   unsettling me with your too acidic stares

                                                            & too basic glares,

your pH of absolute resistance, a zero in every litmus test,

this putrid pest of humanity.

Yet, I digress,

let me

leave some room,

for it to loom...

the wrath of God

                          upon your mortal soul,

if you so have one.

For you are undone,

you slimy parasite of pickled porcupine piss,

I hint at your hypocritical, hyped up hisses 

                     behind my back

                                             barely sore from the attack

of your run-of-the-mill, lame remarks, embark on a real bender

& listen to me 

run ragged words warped with wickedness to unravel your soul and char your chatter,

it doesn't matter

where you run or where you hide

because the deep dark monster,

so hideous and insipid,

remains inside

the recesses of your mind, 

my so-called friend.

The end was near & I was glad of it,

take and bury the hatchet,
I'm done with it.

Defend what you will and what you can,

but remember where your reasons land,

& can you say you always defend dignity, honor the truth?
Pass the Vermouth, because I need to sober up from your lies.

You weave them interlaced with the poison of disgrace...

you disgust me with intimate traces

of a once-begotten friendship, frayed and burned at the edges,

I'm left looking behind hedges

           while you try to erase me, deface me.

Let me perform a vital operation,

a character assassination

                                      necessary for the benefit of the State

for I do state

you are left crownless and empty beside the hide of your own skin,

teeth pulled back in the grimace you call a grin,

for the monster inside you lashes and gnashes

with the pride and the swallow of lust,

you disgust me,

my so-called friend.

The end did not come soon enough,

for me to call your bluff

                                    for only fools fall for your frantic failures in fiction.

Your diction and dictatorship lacks finesse,

my fearsome, fake friend;

lend me a hand

in digging your grave,

for your once depraved soul

                                          that remains empty now, save a black hole.

Run away, run away,

for the monster inside is there to stay,

& you will remain 

stained with the remnants of a would-be friendship,

murdered and curdled with time,

the mime of sisterhood, muted by your foulness.

Devour your hunger for gossip

& drown in your own disapproving frown

for I no longer want to see the smirk of arrogant pride,

smeared on your too smug face,

the scarlet letter of your crime,

my so-called friend.

It matters not the when & where,

but your betrayal waits & watches & stares...

the smell of something vile

buried in deceit,

the rotting of my so-called friend.

This is the end of anything left to mend,

I commend you on your most excellent tricks,

you flickering flame of shameful, sick habits,

watch me take life and grab it

while you flounder and flail

                                        no use to set sail

because you are the kraken beneath the waves

               whom no one wants to save,

you monster.

Her writing smells of too settled beer,

not easy to stomach & a voice worse to hear,

the meager offerings of a too tainted soul,

whether in part or whole,

adrift in the mess of her own festering attempts,

you fancy yourself a writer.

It's not that I hate you or curse your name,

it is the too quiet way

you tried to impart shame...

How easy it is to say, "I can't stand you"

                                                            to someone else,

acting calm and cool, calloused to candor...

and yet

you fear muttering it to my face, you coward;

cannibalise the demise of your insecurities,

the impurities of your so-called friendship.

Say it louder, scream it to me,

only then can you convince me

               of any semblance to humanness,

you abscess of rancid horse meat

      seething with the flies of conceit

you maggot of wretchedness.

Here we part,

never to start,

                    or stir the ashes of a so-called friendship,

unless you wish to awaken

the fire of my pen,

eager to stab into you

again & again,

tearing into the crumbling cardboard cut-out

that is my so-called friend.