Dollhouse Night

It occurred to me tonight
How one might cross the line.
For a single retched moment,
I understood his sickness
With disturbing clarity. I witnessed
The malfunctions of my genetically related mind...
A mind afflicted with elements of the same...
Of repetition, obsession, addiction, dissociation...
I imagined it escalating--the naiveté of others,
Dangling their lives like bait in front of you,
Dancing like children near a pack of hungry pumas...
Silent taunting voices just daring you to do it...
That far gone, and throw in a pint of Whiskey...
I could never empathize...but it makes me think--
Actually doing a thing like that...a thing so vile,
So violent... when the line between fantasy
And fact is, for some, so very thin...
There would be nothing else to do but press
On with it, I guess...
Try to bury it and mistakenly fill in fertilizer
In place of cement...
Perhaps a thing like that is just too
Shameful to face. Perhaps there is in fact a point
When man becomes monster....
At least, that's how I imagined it tonight, when
I for once dared...