sweetness, my love of people?
They were lost to a field of bones.
Lost to the glint of pearls before swine,
to a hot burglar within my blood,
to aisles laden with mirage
the shine of disinfected substance.
Drifting in mercury letters,
cursed by black sand
on the back of a battered dove.
Beads of worn ivory teeth
trickling over sheet mail gloves
and the milking of barren guts.
Glaze of daylight like a fist
above the green waters.
Vinyl moon above a cliff curve
all the fire this tongue deserves
poured down through nets
of hot galactic nerve
through piercing seeds and eggs of rain
veins dancing with a chill
sublime monstrosity
decked out in prophylactic frills.
No comments:
Post a Comment