CONTENT NOTE:
Includes references to sexual abuse and graphic violence.
___________
It has been said that to forgive’s divine
And to forget is to be forgotten—
Sty slop thrown into the dank pen with swine—
As one left down in the darkness, rotten,
Gone bad, dismissed, removed by one’s design.
The fate of one so used, abused, ill-gotten;
But fate is a fickle, little hater—
The creator of the plot twist—this...later.
You may or may not know I had a spine.
I was a spy, no lie—my skills gotten
Through sex appeal, a wholesome girl redesign—
Started wearing fine silk and not cotton—
Lipstick, liner, shadow, and rouge look fine;
My hope for some respect—misbegotten.
There is no such honor for a traitor—
And that was the case for this narrator.
What can be said?—other than I would shine
For Eneas Earthworm, the law begotten
By a people who make their laws entwine
With their own damn corruption, spoiled rotten—
For him I would hook up with men once we’d dine—
Hard criminals who seemed to like bottom;
Helpless position for a dictator,
But let’s not rush the story—more later.
Countless men fell for the trap I’d assign—
You were no different, you know, sodden
With sweat and cum—after which, all resign
To think that they’ve won, that their seed’s gotten
To fill up a little, hot whore—divine!
But as they reach for terry cotton—
The cops show up, as I was used as bait
So the law could cut corners and not wait.
Yes, I am kidding you not, don’t malign
The truth with your lies—fucking swill—rotten
To the bone you are! Yes—regular swine!
I fucked you too, but don’t act downtrodden
Mr. Rafferty—show you have a spine,
Don’t act like this is all misbegotten!—
To a criminal life you did cater;
Suck it up buttercup, I’m your waiter.
Don’t like you didn’t set this up?—don’t whine!
Listen up, you prick, you’re not who’s trodden.
You will never be the one to define
Who’s forgiven through being forgotten
Anymore!—you hear me—tonight you are mine,
And this is where all the fun will be gotten,
So, shut it Skeleton Key! Shut your grater!
Tonight you’ll be buried in a crater!
You left me in a nunnery divine,
Left me there to die and be forgotten—
Crippled from the fall with a broken spine—
There for the priests to touch me with rotten
Hands made for awful intentions; confine,
Suppress, rape and then hide it with cotton—
See, Mr. Key, I’m not a debator—
Let us end this debate now, not later!
Alice, please get me those pruners—that’s fine—
You do remember Alice, ill-gotten,
Right?—how you and ol’ Wormy could consign
Her to the shadows of jailed bones, rotten,
Frame her as villain and thenceforth confine
To more than prison—her name misbegotten
Well, Trevellyan here is an equator,
Ready to work—a new man creator.
Place it right there darling—yes. That’s divine.
Any last things to say, Mr. Rock-Bottom?
No worries about Earthworm—he did just fine—
It just takes seconds, nothing forgotten.
I mean how can you forget such a puny design?—
Or the sharp pain from this thing, ill-gotten
There, don’t you cry and scream like a freighter—
I didn’t draw this out till much later.
Now, open up wide like you want some wine—
I know you’re going to find this rotten—
Don’t squirm, a parting gift from ‘Worm is thine;
Fits perfect—your silence now begotten—
Gagging sounds, now from out your throat, not mine.
It’s real clear—right Alice?—we’ve not forgotten;
How’s that taste? Good thing you won’t smell the pine.
Grab that gun Alice! Time to kill this swine!
© 2026 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
First published on tristanrobertlange.com, September 28, 2026.
Tittu
+++
Coming next Macabre Monday:
DEVILISHLY DREADFUL
The Boy Detective;
or, the Crimes of the Collective
on October 5, 2026
-
Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: September 28th, 2026 05:34
- Comment from author about the poem: This is the third part of Season 2 in my series, Devilishly Dreadful. For Macabre Monday. Inspired by Edward Ellis’s Ruth the Betrayer; or, The Female Spy, this ottava rima poem returns to the penny blood’s notorious heroine and imagines what might follow its final pages. Told in Ruth’s own voice, it turns through betrayal, memory, and the dangerous consequences of leaving someone forgotten.
- Category: Gothic
- Views: 14
- Users favorite of this poem: Paul Bell, Friendship
- In collections: Devilishly Dreadful: A Macabre Monday Series.
Offline)
Comments6
Us invisibles are disposable outside of our usefulness to those sat in power and those rising above us.
Arqios, that’s a big part of what interested me here...what happens when somebody the powerful considered disposable decides she is anything but. ✂️🦴🖤🙏
Sex a primary force in the hands of power, rape legitimized by force of the law. Might makes right a rule of nature to be overthrown by the revolution of entropy a greater force still. Age takes all in the end. Sex and abuse fall by the wayside to be swept away by time in its forgetfulness. Well written my friend
Soren, thank you, my friend. I like where you carried this...past Ruth’s revenge and into something much larger about power eventually meeting a force it cannot command. ✂️🦴🖤🙏
You are most welcome my friend
Ahh, indirect reference(s) to a Mr Hunt here? Popeye may be in it too somewhere. lol.
Orchi, yes...Mr. Hunt appears to be developing a disturbing habit of turning up where he does not belong. 😂 Not sure he felt the visit "pleasant" this time 'round. Popeyeus Glug Maximus is probably filing for a cameo as we speak, nothing stops his gluggery...nothing I tell you. Ruthie has some sore bones to pick and is not pleased. 🤣 ✂️🦴🖤🙏
If only they did get killed in the end, it would be fitting.
Sadly they all seem to live forever, always protected by the same people as themselves.
Power, always the ultimate orgasm.
Paul, exactly, my friend. What makes it worse is how often abuse gets dressed up as order, authority, or necessity by the people doing the protecting. ✂️🦴🖤🙏
Well-written story. Your story revolves around themes of betrayal, revenge, and the complexities of morality. The narrator, who has been wronged and abused, navigates through feelings of anger and empowerment as they confront a figure who has caused them harm. Yet the story delves into the darker sides of human relationships, especially betrayal and manipulation within a corrupt system, while also exploring the struggle for identity and agency in a world full of deceit.
Friendship, thank you, my friend...you caught a lot of what I was wrestling with here. Ruth’s anger is real, but so is the mess around what power and pain can turn people into. Much appreciated, my dear friend. ✂️🦴🖤🙏
Corruption is always ptotected
Sharon, absolutely. Corruption has a nasty way of surrounding itself with loyalty, silence, and mutual self-interest. ✂️🦴🖤🙏
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.