self portraiture in hell

rough sandpaper

against my cheek,

she hummed her tale of yesteryear’s glory

and I focused on the roughness against my portrait

what if it were to leave a stain?

what if I were to be a branded man?

a marked man

taken to the gallows

for not listening to the glory of a woman

glory of fire, blood and tears in a holy mix-

injected intravenous,

with Stairway to Heaven playing in the background

I never liked that song though

would have rather listened to the cat and monkey screeching at each other

and with her tale unheard still,

she slapped me hard

and I saw stars for a moment

and then she got up and left

and so did the monkey

naturally I named the cat Persephone.

-Tanmay