You are a jackal -
You turn me red.
skin warped – veins drained of their meaning
as if, my blood – and Yours,
reject the notion – of nurture.
Your antlers – woven with bells
mandibles misplaced
gaunt – sanguine lilies
peering from the carapace,
pierce my palms -
and pollinate.
You are a jackal -
You turn me red.
Fill your lungs to bursting,
And run for your life.
Grasp each breath – with that same
Ferocity
Your chest burns with.
Let it plume,
Like the heart – devouring
With rapturous hunger -
Caressing your tongue
Lacing your words
It is something that ravages
Even the marrow
It is something that will swallow
You whole
And in the end
You will find.
Not – but ash,
A mural -
A fox.
There's a trail leading back
To that glassy stare of mine
To that gaze beneath the boot
That beating in the brain
The soul will be crushed, in conditions much the same
The sun's quickly dimming
It's time to sink or swim
Cause I think this fountain pen's,
About to do me in.
This everlasting blaze,
Will bury us – in time.
We’ll need to tend to his garden, once we’re gone
So let me be dirty, just this once.
Let me feel the way the wax scarred your back -
Place the gun to the altar
Say your prayers as you brace your finger,
Fire,
And let the inhibitions leak.
Like all the rest.
Lay it bare.
Mother of my Mother -
our hearts – belong, to you
wretched as they – may be
I rest within,
your primordial wing
shielded from that,
autumnal hurt
as Seven Trumpets sound
and rouse me.
away, from your -
cinderous womb.
You stand alone – in a field,
A bat loosely gripped in your hand.
Death on your lips.
Staring a CRT down,
You choke up -
And Swing.
Smoke rises – circuits burst.
There's nothing but dead grass between us,
The flames lick my heels,
The Warmth returns
To my face.
And I don't think these feelings
Belong to me,
Anymore.
If the flood will come
then let it be, torrential -
May the black rains cleanse,
the scourge we have wrought,
My roots have rotted from under me,
I'm being displaced,
I'm leaking ichor –
The judge – is watching.
So wrap your arms around me
Let ivy burst from my throat.
And in my last, gurgling, breaths -
I will renew our Vows.
The rot of leaves, the fall of winter
The sentineled patter of rain against the shutter -
The Willows partake in their sacrament
Of Holy Tears.
Dark rings now light, the infestation banished
The sky overcast, in a graying melancholia
Oh what potential you had -
Weep now, here, in my arms
May the red return to your cheeks with firm resolve.
The Caterpillars aren’t worth it.