writhing gargoyles

writhing gargoyles
sharpen their canines
against your shins,
grinding through bone.

vintage wine curdles in your gullet,
turning into soured vinegar.
bile rises into your oral cavity,
spewing out as spite and vitriol

your home's a boxing ring,
spousal punching bag in place;
your personal hell relieved,
when bones crunch and flesh bleeds.

black haematoma turns purply-blue,
then greeny yellow, then recedes;
but not before the next attack
from left undercut and right hook.

concussed and fractured
she does not fight
but will escape and rise again
stronger than you think

But you!
infested by a million demons,
cloned by the second,
as they feast on the toxins
of your inbred assaults;

gormandising on the rot
of your already dead soul,
their ageless telomeres gloat
thriving in your lost control.

you are your own victim,
with no remorse or salvation.