It looked at me
Bearing heavy disease,
And limped away.
Like how the saddest droplet of hot wax
Crawls from a white flames strange beauty
Falling to a shadow
Where it cools, sadder still.

I studied the shadows on my face,
Looking
As if I had just remembered
Your hardly parted lips
And glass eyes that breathe
Erasing me with ease,
Looking
As if you had just remembered
When your teeth fell out
And your skin crawled
From the softest birdsong.

There is a painting somewhere
Between my eyes,
Its dark affections lay beside me
Smelling of rotten fruit
And all that I know of sweet evil,
A perfume
Grossly intoxicating and murderously romantic
Like some kind of pale horse,
Filled with little men who want my blood.

An owl of effortless beauty
offers vainglorious thought
And qualms between protruding ribs
Knowing its death will be a passionate movement
A contrast among still branches
Of grey trees beside her

Watching from a window,
All I hear is water.

Rivers whisper awful things
Their sandpaper tongues scrape
Softly
Little bones of young

A waterbird eats his tongue
"Fearful!" screams its death
Still softer
Than a watery whisper

Composed of light
Through half-closed blinds
A visual symphony
Perceived without eyes
The skin on my hands
Contours the rays
And bends her back
Gently to me

Is to wake to a chorus
Of vaporous illustrations
Wing tips dipped
In the pale of her lips
Whispers the sky
To the brown haired girl
Who paints the dawn

There is a flame on the tip of every lover's brow,
The shame they have felt
Now loads their death pistols.
Hunting peacocks and collecting blood diamonds
Greedy palms glistening with anticipatory luminosity...

Your back, small and slender
As the fragile legs of a spider
Made to be adored
Too much to be touched

Warmer than pale,
Barely
I hear old moonbeams
Dripping off my bed frame.

Just while I sleep
Love surrounds me
Like a woman, like a let down
Barely a sound, absent of voice
Slowly my bones are crushed,
Without a noise.