i've been hanging from the crescent moon

strung up by
the sinews of a heart that
pumps no blood

a celestial noose
of angels

and i can hear them every so often as
the wind blows -
strong underneath their
skeletal wings

it's getting tighter,
but i can feel no pain

i am hanging from the waning light, but i am not dying

the white, glowing disc among the blackness
attracts lost seraphim
like vultures

swarming around my fading flame like
a secret pagan ritual

they all wait for me to kiss the devil
with my eyes wide open
and i will wonder why
i fell in love with the wrong person again