The magic behind
that unknown;
what holds it up?
Against time;
above it all:
a reflection to tell
on every move,
undoubtedly
a midnight wonder.
Cast from the teeth
of perennial being;
closed eyes make
not a difference.

A
perforated rhythm
the pith of you
that keeper of epochs
and secrets
placed at an end
on a table
through dark adroitness
I became
God and Death
on that
day

Pardon me if I stare too long
but your dentition
                              turns my thoughts
to dark craft
                       in my nooks and crannies
What did I just drop you ask?

Oh nothing
                       those are just my pliers

No* *extra salt on these taste buds
  Garlic; a thing of the past
     Cinnamon; might as well be Garlic
        never, a bath in the sun switches it on
          However: it seems I'm not allergic
             to  the taste of your beautiful ruin,
               it's magic, the dark
                  *all consuming

A treat,
    sort of like Treet,
    goes down;
with force:
no sunlight,
just
                 gray
            grey;
whichever suits the eyes.
              Ghrelin,
  feed me,
          mentation;
        salutations.

You embrace me like a loving mother
& complete my anticipation,
holding my hand all the while,
gazing into my eyes.
You lull me into rest, oh Death,
lover of flesh.

VVe could strip skin from faith
crank volume on regret
degrade linens under flex
visit all of our depths
imprint hands into bone
grind these teeth into dust
lie your secrets safe vvith me
say a prayer aftervvard?

If I
were to write
an  a u t o b i o g r a p h y,
would you shlick your eyes to it?
Glean my every molecule from it's pages;
pick your meat biters with my ribs,
run out and tell the world
all about this
unknown.

Inside that
cylindrical container,
a pseudo survival;
j u s t   a    little   m o r e   s e a s o n:
tongue the span of human nature,
take it out for a spin; like you own it,
stick a fork in it!
These eyes are vacant;
Death is home
now.

Sole paragon,
dreamland inamorata,
spend a moment;
drovvn me in your vvaters.
Slake this surreptitious tongue,
before it turns to dust,
guide my hands hovv you see fit;
there's no reason to not.
Love can get you high
but ...
       I
          vvill
                  travel
                      ­       as
                                   lovv
                             as
                    you
         vvant.