Do You Like to Hurt People?

There is something in the corner of my room,

Made of gristle and teeth.

In the summer it

Attracts flies.

I can ignore it

Most of the time.

 

Sometimes

When I lie awake,

Sweating opium,

It talks to me.

It always asks me the same thing.

But I can ignore it.

 

Most of the time

I can stay out of my room,

And I can keep the thing quiet

As long as nobody opens the door.

I can get it to leave me alone

Most of the time.

 

But when

The smoke and needles stop working

I am dragged into that place

Filled with flies and the stench

Of rotting meat.

It always asks me the same thing.

 

It silently demands

A reply.

And I can tell it

That my answer is

No

Most of the time.