Tristan Robert Lange
the damnedest destinations
the wind s
w
i
r
l
s.
i can hear your voice
In the gentle br e e z e ,
“You so funny,
“You are such a riot.”
the laughter reverberates
in
sin-
cerity.
“Fascinating.”
the word flew fast past
what was it again?
“So
sweet;
cute;
nice”
the words are now
s u f i g
h f l n .
then nothing.
gone—vanished—
veneer varnish
desecrated by death.
“Oh my!”
but why? why the change?
do i no longer fit
on
your
range?
dead gender grab
dropped like a stab,
but I’m not on a slab.
“Why, I never...?!”
never, what?
never got cut by a “friendly” knife,
something you thought brought life,
only to see it slit your throat,
like a fucking scapegoat.
“Well...”
what? well...what!?
thought i didn’t have a voice,
that I didn’t have this choice.
underestimation leads
to the damnedest destinations.
© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
Tittu