again and again, the world renews the spike in the palm
and north winds bear down upon the inky black
where dead stars illuminate the zodiac of our inner defeat.
an upturned display of seedless fruit against a backdrop
of discrete harm... and the south wind scratching at the twinkle
of a last act. a mirage of poppies and golden wheat
from which the bread of our maker is baked into the glamor
of so much solitude in a galaxy
in your house.

Water drips
timing seconds
one by one
light to dark
lay me to sleep
give me playbook as a pillow
cover me with old papers
whіsреr me headlines
breathe deeper
move slower
crawl closer
stay longer
discomb my eyebrow
grasp the wrong elbow
mess sugar with pepper
till the next season come

You walk through the sands,
an eclipse red in the sky.
A temple lies at hand,
Wherein truth reveals the lie.

Two figures block the door,
you release a note.
Whatever lies in store,
may be your last hope.

A book lies on an altar,
also a chalice of clear substance.
Your heart beats faster and harder,
so full of suspense.

You open the cover gently,
the pages crinkle with age.
Alas,
Each sheet was empty,
same on every page.

In confusion you look around,
Eyes falling on the reflection in the cup.
Now your truth has been found,
But the news has your heart sunk...

What.

He ate out my heart and threw it up.
Poison lungs, poison veins-
****.

Viscera numbed, spined eels wriggle,
I am ******.

****** as in : a shut-in, swain of Gehenna, rocked, rolled.
He needed more rope for his net and so cut out my tendons.

What skies to worship now? What skins?