Is dedicated
To
Those who have chosen healing over
Mourning.

The world needs you.

Your love is yours to
Give,
Tough - or otherwise.

the gate, we find,
is left unguarded-as
you
trace out your
glances towards me like glancing blows from fangly dog-mouth
scraping :
up and down
these
tired thighs of
skin


and greedy hands, we find,
are easy to
guide

there
  and
Elsewhere.

And as with all virtues,
The fanboys **** it up.


And as we come almost to the close of the
Show,
We see the moral of the story a bit clearer
Now :

It was just that they wanted
Love and protection
Love and protection, and that is all.

And if it were offered sooner,
It needn’t have been demanded, as the
Curtains fall.


Until next stage it set.
Until the next audience, met.

Until the work is made,
Anew.

it’s a tepid nectar
that now drips from these leather-winged amphora jars :

they circle, like harpies
down to us upon tumble-hot currents spinning off the face of the
earth




but there are subterranean cisterns
of something else

out there :


cool water
against us.


and my syrup-stuck lips are
dry
for
it.

curl


and you're
mine.

the saltpeter sea may yet swallow these
black-sailed ships

bleak obelisk .
reduce the risk.

and
swim.











[the power of i don’t know :  to the wielder, feels a burden - but serves as everything that keeps us from falling into Hate.]

but for the span of this
     /rolling/
        fall : we
may yet

shuffle.away
at the end
     of

      i
      t



p e t a l - s c u f f e d ,
yet
s t e m - s u r v i v e d .