Monkeys of Torment

the monkeys of torment deficate through the bars of the soul
onto the ego
do they feel remorse?

i crush their heads in love
their eyes fly forth
making sounds as such:
plop,
plop!

why must the circus peanuts of chewy goodness always be out of reach?
is this the circus? am i the clown?
NO

i snort the nose at the cruel mimes of fate
i grind them to powder with the spiked cleats of triumph
making sounds as these:
squish,
squash!

i am the elephant

Melvin W. Hartford, Jr.