Black sandwich, prawn shoes

They were black, weren't they.
With little oval holes for the toes,
two of them, the big and the index.
Not sexy exactly - you need to see more toes
for that - bizarrely.
'Stilletoes', with points like inverted
pricks. Walk on me - puncture my skin - black shoes -
that's what it's all about, isn't it?
Is it not.
That special flavour, that skin tone,
that ...
Yes, that occasion when you had
a durex lodged on your thigh - calf? - the one
I didn't play with or find as my fingers didn't wander -
the one you told me about - you, carping
like a carp, all flesh and gills and
hurt and hate. Yes, let's roll. You're
here with me now in this 'poetic' -
you too, thinking back to how you
needed me - needed me?, like as hell -
kneaded me more like, bake-before bread to
your stratagem and plan, with the sping
already there inside you, 'wriggoling' away,
you kneaded me to supply my own, sperm with its
own spermatazoa and spermicide, to kill
what was already wriggling, to kill the possibility
of 'hang on, how can you be so, - we haven't had
sex for over a double of months'. But,
I fell for it, or 'kneadeed' to, - your little game,
your extra ennuie.

And now, what am I? Just a prawn, somewhere in
your sandwich - not your real prawn sandwich - that's a fake one, as you know. It's all a metaphor, as Natalie says - a metaphor for hate - yours - a metaphor for my little sense of self, now, that I v-signed you, finally, and resigned myself to nothing. Your nothing. You're nothing, because I tell you so ... and, THAT is why you hate me so. Haha, but to tell you so
only renders me the black prawn, you the shoe sandwich - it's
all about revenge, isn't it. Well no, it's
not - when I wing away, when I fall
from towers and cliffs, I will think or
know that, just that, transferring countenance,
countering transference.

In a coda-way, though, what I hate most
are people who live by houses,
the houses that they own -
that sense that they still have shoes,
they still have things to eat
just doesn't cut it, with them;
they sit in their halls
and doors and count the 'k's
in their property
and look away as the last strains
of humanity drain from them. I've
seen it before, but to see it in you
broke the seal and sent me down the chute.