Hydrocyanic acid confession

Hydrocyanic acid confession

I am full of cyanide,
for I am alone and unloved.
I have some of your facial features,
I laughed aloud
as if I were entering a bat cave,
but it was not laughter that a happy being
stretched out due to joy,
it was desperation, it was torture.

Even now I grin, but bareheaded and alone,
I keep hiccoughing and do vomit on occasion,
right here in this tiny nylon bag.
Want some? No?

I have criteria.

I know the nature of doubt.
The whirlwind of trickery
an endless number of smaller whirlpools
of seemingly irrelevant events
I and my doubt became one.
A stone of crude profile rolling
and gathering various bits and bobs.
But this was far before…before…


I have complicated my own life
with freelance work,
the earnings…

And more oil paintings, Vincenzo for instance.

Hungover from work and sunken from the anguish,
with sunken cheekbones from leaning them on the wrist
of my weary hand,
with my head like a lid of a burnt saucepan

flailing with the night where my butchery voice pierced the heavens.
I escaped under the sight of an ax

Seeking for a spot where it could drive its blade
and lay bare any hidden molars
under my golden hair.

The woolly hat on my head was undergoing
and took on the shape of a well-coiffed

Assessing the sufferer, only to jump into his lap
and take off another chunk of meat.
a bit slim, but still gracious
I growled silently, but pleased.

– And the wife?

– Left on a short trip,

My wicked thing. I must go home, my wife is in that ashtray waiting.

But that was far before…before…

Published by Leila Samarrai

I am a person of Himalayan seclusion, I am Atalanta in vestments of Helen of Troy, for me there is no term (aphorism there is, maybe). Cosmopolitan is too modest word for one who wanders across epochs without the help of the time machine. Some people consider me weird, because usually this is so when they do not understand something or someone that do not represent their existence. I love cats, an animals in general, I like challenges, I am persistent, I am combative (sometimes I can exaggerate in that - in all) If I were stylistic figure my mortal name would be Hyperbole. Read me. Know me. Conquer me :)

One thought on “Hydrocyanic acid confession

  1. Does no one else recognize how importantly relevant you are to rearranging life’s look after longing of even being just as once before its relevance vanishes as each of us eagerly reluctant to admit in accordance with its one defiantly shared yet followed loyally through till its fruition’s fear realized wasting of what could have been if only they had seen through your keenly eyed views of what should have changed long before any of us had hopes of seeing them to any sordid conclusions.
    Beautifully and terrorifically true to the bone Leila!
    Amazing work


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