You wear a cult.
I come **** of veneration.
O god how you want
to be adored in dark?

Petrified I am
fighting the flames of hate
and jealousy. A merciless
sun won't cool down.

Come on my love,
it is time to talk. Honeybee
hive is swaying in storm.
Want to bite?

Amnesia. Age was
taking its toll. I don't remember
my face. The nameless god
will not join.

Sweet coma canopy,
brain bath in solemn loops,
a gentle washing away
of handprints,

Makes the bed,
blanketed by dreams,
rest upon reimagined partitions,
instead of the jagged edge,

But there are holes
in the architecture,
pliable infrastructural tunnels
to navigate through,

Lucky termite splinters
the mind, this delicious library,
and feasts upon before all acquired
souvenirs settle into books,

It's then a young turtledove lifts
off toward October next,
searching for the dry twigs
with which to build closure.