pebbles
over the eyes
beautiful vacancies
and folded hands

our true home
land of inanimate flesh
gray skin
in sunken grave beds
and operas
theater of mice
while tumbled hair still grows

we are already dead
waiting for the flaming barge necropolis; to
shuttle seas raven
vanishing point

age; a slow erasure
the mind still wreathed into the torrents of life
morals transmute into desires lost
every inhalation
a going going gone

the only savage kisses;
crypt tongues slow unwinding

allusions of a destiny abandoned

forgotten  
from niggling chatter
and the price of a chicken

bathing in a tide pool abyss
of inked black teas
i hold fast
losing steps
a worn animal, waiting
till sanctuary comes