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De Envie

All over her
I see it
The fire

Arms spinning like a red baton
Waiving ferociously
At the world to blame

Speaking in tongues
The rue morgue
Foaming over the banks

Insulted by the cloth of poverty
Her dirty, masculine hands

"It is mine! It was meant for me!"
"Have pity for me!"
"Speak woefully in my absence!"
And
"Give me the attention I conjur!"

The onlookers can see
But not with their eyes
From under their breast

The stage is only a false
Perception of foundation
Truly perpetuated by shame

The fear burns
The dragon cycle of breath
Smoldering on

Her sharp stare
I see it
The fire


@Red Hammonds 2014

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