--

cripple me up
in you
take me out, take me
up
into your innocuous
dream
you return
to you to
me in
you: me
grant me leave in your
felt ice-chilled air
your shattering cupola
of you in
you,
endolithic fingers
puncturing
endearing
slither me into your
tender infection
and lock the door

A pleasant one. Sorry...

Once more this will flow down the horty pipes of your temporal throat in a squandered attempt to resurrect the undead from their salty languid holes which were dug by your secular God of dirt and dumpsters and time—he who wanders the streets in suit and tie, needle in hand, and begs forgiveness for all that his swollen dripping yellow melting-liquid eyes have promised—dug out with forks and knives and wet dreams awoken in ecstasy and orgasm by the sordid smack and drip of feed and fester and flood congealing into one before settling peacefully into lungs as black as snow kicked out to the side of the road; once more this will flow down those pipes and once more you will fall asleep to the echoes of its depraved benzo-tinged dream.

You Wait

Your eyes teeter on the edge of your mind like rain

before the flummery fall of infantile dusk.

Descending like wolves upon its woeful sullen prey

but lingering there, never springing but wading in a pocket

of dried up fed up doled out dust.

Nowhere, here is in the now or never gone

but always leaving and not fleeing just

picking up its bags and walking away towards you

saying softly, “Farewell, I’m glad to see you in this state of lagging disrepair.”

So laying like jewels inside a covered velvet case

You wait