● POETRY IN VOICE
REALITY TESTING
By Nadia Irshād
New Paragraph
I'll tell you how you know.
They come in many forms, shapes and sizes but this is always the case.
He leaves a trail.
Particles of the snake skin,
a vignette of greys at the edges.
With two eyes, flat.
When bright, he's flipped the light switch
to the exterior bulb that hangs outside.
Inside, you know why children scream when they look into his eyes.
The I in his eye,
ladders down to an empty pit
where devils meet for a dance after dark.
His jabs disguised as wit fill him with helium.
He floats, fat on himself.
He is a junkie, not just an addict.
His rigid dictates of how you should be
are presented as mathematical equations,
aggression veiled in a slippery smile.
If you feel, you'll know what I mean when I say his morality is founded on contempt.
He smothers you in the grime that fills
his memory gaps with fables invented to secure his reign.
His baroque-styled empathy spills over, bubbly for strangers.
With you, he cleans his shoe.
The tremble in his voice takes over your inner home
and grows louder and louder until you can't hear yourself think.
The stench is a siren for psychopathy.