iv'e have not quite come to terms
with that dark thing that lives within me
oh lord
have mercy upon ophidian's soul
have you not enslaved me
with desires despicable
drawn darkness over me
with a black wands curse
into
feral gates castellation
as I sleep
towards mournings flaring sun
with aches infernal ****

i behold images of
hung women sway-less
heads pressed firmly against stone walls
legs and feet splayed behind
squandered treasures
******* yellow soaked with *****
so ghastly
my darling
so touching
oh lovely horror

she said
to die that way
in a little room somewhere
would be perfect
so easy
even pleasant
as lips brush caressed
she cooed whispers
protect me from
from the cruelty
of grizzled age
and heaped infirmities
like stones on threadbare silk
that unravel and tear souls
sorry and dull
until collapse

standing tippy toes
her head on my shoulder
arms around my neck
my soul her mausoleum
undulating as if a rounded wind
eyes like rushing poems
pleading

a bloodless brain
she mused
better than the delirium of
glittered fizz
cocktails

we could do it in easy stages
all tender accommodations
as you lasso the rope
gently around my neck
and attach to a sturdy handle
then lay me firm upon white linens
with wet-lipped kisses
and let me drop weightless
like a slipper off a foot
into sweet
night tides
nirvana

i stopped writing, i thought it was good for me.
turns out it was you who wasn't good for me.

- g.w