The Taste Of Fear Poem by James McLain

Woman do not seem overtly or openly.
Hurried today to get married if at all,
and bitterly
of those roots already exclusive to truth.

That society has once again to itself.
How can we undo it again
to take back the tilting balance.
When the wind blows it is difficult.

Strong K-Y is the help where before
open flings the moon of arousal
of these new woman come more completely.

And "the woman" of the gel of these woman
is put in place in order to emphasize.
As for the right end of each couple.

The lesbian to the man never it is not.
When it is not a man sent, fingers dig wells.
You did not tell the artificial truth to competition.
K-Y........Delicious person wherein, I dwell.ear's where prior Tennant's, using the
Key that they left with,
Tdo come inside in the darkest of night's.
To steal what they could steal, while I was dead asleep,
Due to my psychotropic medications that I took.
Sometimes I would come awake and here someone inside,
The fear was palatable, the fear you could taste,
Other times I would wake in the morning to find my laptop
Or Kindle fire stolen from my room while I slept.
Each Tennant that they moved in was of course mentally ill,
Few paid their rent, while other's were evicted.

Here at my mother's,
Where I have lived for seven weeks, I have lost already
Fifteen pound's.
My half brother, Robert has lived here nearly fifteen years,
Has paid no rent and has stolen from our mother to support
His thirty five year old crack habit.

He this morning invaded the space where I sleep ranting
And raving,
Having now had no crack for two days.
She my mother and I are on disability and when adult protective
Come she lies to cover such evil up.
Having stolen all and anything of value to buy his crack.

My sixteen year old niece whom with her mother moved out
After having tried
To get a restraining order against him to protect themselves
And my mother who is eighty one.

Yesterday I asked my niece how she indured living here for
Her intire life?
She said that the screaming and yelling from him on mornings
Like today,
Has in the past had given her thoughts of putting antifreeze
In his Gatorade,
Before leaving to work where all that he earned
Was spent on crack.

Hopelessness in this fear one can taste and the taste makes
My stomach sour,
Waiting for an act of violence to break out.
This taste of fear.