This is volcanic;
a brewing mix of thoughts and panic
bellowing below my feet to my fingers
feeding the haunts that linger
listless and eager
I am all but free
in the lava crust machinery
churning hopes of the industry completely.
Mutating like the step sons she once sold to me
They said "kill me, stop this wrench weather, believe in more than just rain and misery"
Kitchen nails; benevolence
Trees the bend around the world
Wiped smiles on the sleeves of strangers
yawn through the cotton.
Wooden dreams, clean knees
"tell me how many times?"
(more) A hundred eggs - escaped through the cuffs
The beads of flesh
The mounds of sweat
the backwards hand off
"leave bleak what you take"
"leave him weak, for a bit"
upon these nursery pews and pigment thieves
The trees bend around the scene
Fading; keeping me warm
they sing of Autumn
they intended to set me free
husk the comfort - fix the puzzle
"Tell them it's never before"
What we tell them
"It's never again"
palms rent, psalms read
"Strictly after the party"
the fast paced logos
a renamed focal
point of morals.
breathing fire in the chest
(more) of Mortals.
Forgo the corals, the pinch-dust, and laurels.
Instead, be the scene of tortures
moving faster through horrors.
Immoral gasps and tasked poachers
climb the lateral balance of decloaked hoarders.
An Aural belief set free by Oral Motives
in the Brown Book of promise.
Sing to me the sonnets;
an Arias worst confidence. A cosmos
bound up by the mist
a tomb-box minagerie
clapping back to me
a focal aspiration
torn to shreds and a gasp of apathy
(more) has taken hold of me
three pins through this sodomy
four cooks in the balcony
causing soup to breath with alchemy
it's just business blasphemy
so let me go to the apple tree
and pick four letter words to be masked in bees
I am but a nutrient being absorbed carefully
in this room-cloak you call misery
sing to me
my mistress and my queen
between my hands as I lay blissfully
in the field of tragedy
let me be
be the boomerang of infinity
a kiss the scene
slippery to the touch, touching infinity to feel the rush
I am humbled and homed, walled up to be deboned
a lasting muscle beating at the speed of your unplayed tones
mingle with whats left of me, mystify my infamy
(more) clamy and rotten, cold and frozen, chosen to be broken, wholed and woven
into a box which must be opened by warm hands
and a fervent notion. (less)
She, the Library whispered
into my ear
A father of Gore on her shoulder.
She, the torrential Artist
of bound Nurses
mended the shores of the world
(more) She, the silent Talker
an accent of me
loosely clawing at the fabric
feeling the threads between her nails
red as the sea beneath her tears.
Me, the starving stranger
a picture of minutes
moving faster than life
Me, one beat Beyond
the conceptual beast
pointy eared and raw
Me, the last Breath
standing tall, the soldiers
marching upon your neck
breaking the books She binds herself in
whispering chapter gasps through the fear.
As the wind of the voice pulls everything back:
Me, the silent mutter
"I will always be here" (less)