In the candelabra night where stars shed
Like cancerous greyhounds falling to Earth
Toward my doorstep tromped the algorithmic heat
Feeling for wishful prisoners readily
Sacked by papier-mâché bodies
Littered like ingrained corpses
Amongst statues too fit to breathe
The atmosphere lost in translation.
Cleaver in hand prepared to shave the cliffside
Plummets as a butcher’s knife falls to sever
Head from body of trembling lamb…
Silky fur feels perfect to reminiscent mind;
Time was once enclosed, remember?
Your desperate reaching fingers
Unclasp the two-fold portal releasing
Deeemons!
Watch the flux.
Starry-eyed and devoid of circular breath
Turning like a manger possessed by infant theft
From the dishwater haze emerged my lover
His tongue torn to shreds by rabid beasts -
In hand a trance or a flimsy manuscript
To tie away time in its mildewed aperture
In which reclines I with her friend
A dear worm.
Leaking like a terrible womb
The Seventh Domain purged from its
Grasp the devouring waltz
Sought refuge in my tidal blood
Usurer of Moon and shadowed
Breath, among snakes coiled
And hopelessly composed
Of eyes turned inside-out
Like the hands of a clock
Grinding &
Embracing &
Idly plucking worlds from entropic dirt.
Needle of bone and thread of hair
I mended the lingual fray to look
Like my home.
And then some time in my throat
Elapsed wherein my lover proceeded
To recline amongst lap-dogs;
Feeling around for acrid stalagmites
Atrophied trophies
Or sterile apostrophes
To link and liken rain to rain cloud
Evaporates as flurried thought condenses
And pours out with a spout
Eyes rolling one
By one.
The striated overhang gleams
With Hell so comfortable in its hands
Nascent tongue fatigued by the stench
Of death crawling like lapping ocean
Waves
Breathing warmth into lover’s ears
Forming again.
Like cancerous greyhounds falling to Earth
Toward my doorstep tromped the algorithmic heat
Feeling for wishful prisoners readily
Sacked by papier-mâché bodies
Littered like ingrained corpses
Amongst statues too fit to breathe
The atmosphere lost in translation.
Cleaver in hand prepared to shave the cliffside
Plummets as a butcher’s knife falls to sever
Head from body of trembling lamb…
Silky fur feels perfect to reminiscent mind;
Time was once enclosed, remember?
Your desperate reaching fingers
Unclasp the two-fold portal releasing
Deeemons!
Watch the flux.
Starry-eyed and devoid of circular breath
Turning like a manger possessed by infant theft
From the dishwater haze emerged my lover
His tongue torn to shreds by rabid beasts -
In hand a trance or a flimsy manuscript
To tie away time in its mildewed aperture
In which reclines I with her friend
A dear worm.
Leaking like a terrible womb
The Seventh Domain purged from its
Grasp the devouring waltz
Sought refuge in my tidal blood
Usurer of Moon and shadowed
Breath, among snakes coiled
And hopelessly composed
Of eyes turned inside-out
Like the hands of a clock
Grinding &
Embracing &
Idly plucking worlds from entropic dirt.
Needle of bone and thread of hair
I mended the lingual fray to look
Like my home.
And then some time in my throat
Elapsed wherein my lover proceeded
To recline amongst lap-dogs;
Feeling around for acrid stalagmites
Atrophied trophies
Or sterile apostrophes
To link and liken rain to rain cloud
Evaporates as flurried thought condenses
And pours out with a spout
Eyes rolling one
By one.
The striated overhang gleams
With Hell so comfortable in its hands
Nascent tongue fatigued by the stench
Of death crawling like lapping ocean
Waves
Breathing warmth into lover’s ears
Forming again.