poem for a pedophile

i imagine the spilling
of spit from between cracked
lips.
he salivates at the smell of rot.
my death scent makes him hard.

lips
pressed firmly to the ear piece-
gulping down my heartbeats
with each wet intake-
each wheeze.

gouge out an eye or sever a limb-
i will be saintlike.
use the relic as a child's rattle.

it is love,
this red
smiling wrist.
what else could it be?

love, you've hijacked my headset-
you are distorting sound
and turning every chorus
sour. sour.

how did he manage this...

each spider faced lie
threads its silk
through my hair.
each strand he knows by name.

his nose recalls my post bed blood smell,
his darkness has committed to it memory
and his heart will fondle it on january mornings.

down past my desert's history
and my metropolitan disposition,
let me make way through the woods.
your hands cannot find, will not touch,
cannot clutch or tear at me.

dear man,
holding each breath
hostage
beneath your thumb
is no way
to go about things.
let us be civil. let us lie.

do not
chew my sinew-
suck my marrow-
place my heart
in a jar.

only be kind.
be kind.

how this malice
has found its way
under my pen point-
has poisoned my verse-
eaten my voice-
and shit out my poetry.