there were holes in your pants you made them that way

you tore out the fabric randomly cutting holes in them

you made them like how you felt holes in your body

each time he came home he would beat you to the ground

pummel your body blow after blow after blow your sobs

like shockwaves ripping out only to be stopped by grey walls

even then he would not stop he would hurt you harm you

degrade you and all while you sobbed in pain while you

whimpered like a dog on its last painful walk to the grave

there were holes in your soul pockets of utter emptiness

pieces fragments of you floating in the misery of the place

you called home they still float there and the holes remain

and so you cut holes in your clothes to remind yourself of

the madness you have gone through and decide that it’s

about time you did something about the torture you’ve

been through and so the next time he walked through the

damn door you faced him with a shotgun point blank at

his beer belly and filled his body with lead and boy were

you glad to be rid of this mess now he got holes and he won’t

be coming back anytime soon to fill those holes you’ve got all

the time in the world to mend and patch your holes start all over

it’s a good phrase as long as the authorities do not catch up to you

you’ve got to go I’m glad you did what you had to put holes in that

bastard now move along move forward while you can.

…

Elancharan Gunasekaran is a multidisciplinary artist and poet. He has a strange love for all things poetical and Sci-Fi. A winner of the Montblanc X Esquire Six-word Story prize 2017. His latest publications are Superatomicluminal (Hesterglock Press, UK), Gods of the Gonzo (Analog Submission Press, UK), The Cosmosnaut Manifesto (UndergroundBooks, New York), Sleeping with Wildflowers (Alien Buddha Press, Arizona/New York), Deviant Flames and Dark Revolver (Roman Books, India/UK).

He writes on Twitter: @elancharang or Medium: medium.com/@elancharang