If you knew
These veins are boiling
So many hours this night
As statuesque as a burning bulb
That you picked with claws
That reached my loins
As I sit next to a demoness
Opening me like tree– wise
Bedded in my excrements
I turn a silent word
That you never listened to
Woken in darkness
As my soul divorced me
But you are such a fickle thing
You are so without a clue
You ruin my best flowers
That were meant for you
I deem madness as my victory
But it is a vice
You smelt the breeze that morning
I hoped I drank you tonight
So we were one
But you chose otherwise
So I drank my sunrise
Dreaming my funeral procession
In a clouded clergy wake
I am mans metaphor
And I sleep your cheeks every night
And paint your hips in my mind.
