Infected with Invidia
anger grew like lust carressed
and molten hatred flecked
the corners of her mouth,
spitting reason as spume upon
a shoreline in insensate tempest
Heaving her flushed curves
in sensuous waves, as emotion
aroused in her a gluttonous
orgy of licentious violence
Apeshit from unripe bananas.
I tell you.
Fucking grief.
Hell hath no fury greater than this.
You can live without it.
No shit.
Wiped around the floor
for a humiliation rag.
Domestic.
Bitter.
Bastard.
Slag
Ewan Paterson
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dirty-washing/
