Nothing to You
Tossed away,
used,
abused,
consumed like last night’s dinner,
gobbled
up quick.
Chunks
of heart, spirit, and soul swallowed up,
down
your gullet, washed down by Guinness and Shiner,
broken
down in the intestines of the monster I gave it all to,
only
to be excreted in nearest men’s room.
Waste
is what I am to you,
leftovers
in the sink diminished, demolished,
destroyed
by the garbage disposal.
The
roar of the machine as it shreds the very
last
of me. Deafening. Fatal. Finished.
I am
not even a thought.
There
is nothing left.
I am
nothing to you.
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