profligate preacher

War of attrition in a padded corner,
Surrounded by scowls, creating a makeshift border,
Hide in books and a love of the scaled fauna,
Alone while cutting skin and corners.

Stuffing cheeks like taxidermy,
Hoping not to meet the infirmary,
The kid thinking of closing curtains permanently,
failing to explain away the pain verbally.

Frustration with a system and world out of reach,
The profligate kid beginning to practice what he preached,
Nightmares of the end times lie down upon the newly formed leech,
The rotten apple spreading chunks of a nasty barrel to each.

The boar is gnawing at the mangrove,
The angry ghost trapping other’s in the treasure cove,
Demons planting seeds with love to see what abomination grows,
Learning the power of the world doesn’t come from love, it comes from what you loathe