I once performed
a Satanic ritual
in order to
kill a man,
appealing to the
Forces of Darkness to
make fast work of him.

I burnt a toy motorcycle
in the flame of a white candle.

My target was a drunk who
rode the real bike.

It would be a short matter of time
before Satan helped him
kill himself.

The target had a Gift with the ladies
and being, I suppose, a charming drunk
he scored pussy at the bars
as needed.

Unfortunately his steady hump
was the woman I loved.

His charm was real.
He was more likable than the
woman I loved,
who was

I liked him even as I wished him

The plastic parts
of the toy motocycle burned and melted,
the die cast metal smoked black and grew hot.

But the target
didn’t die,
and later married
the woman I loved.

This made me feel slightly better:
I was the loser but at least he
claimed his prize.

The woman wrote me years later
apologizing for the way
she had treated me (another story).

marrying him
she’d finally realized he was a mean, selfish drunk
(strange, I’d never witnessed him mean)
and divorced him,
hardly a victory for me
who never got to
fuck her.

I’m unashamed of the old hatreds,
of having wanted to
another human being.

In that way I guess curses
do work.

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