i.
"carpe noctum"
the moon breathes as she unzips
me from her womb and the stars
bow
as i flower into
greatness.
ii.
january flirts with death
and teaches the old dog some
new tricks.
"oh sweet thing,
there is an oasis
in every fever"
iii.
god of sleep,
tell me do your people roam
your ribs
at night;
do you have room for love
in your
domain;
or are you as heartless as the constellations
that decorate your ceiling?
iv.
my mother asked me once:
"are you humble
to the very walls and light switches
of your soul?"
v.
i make a nasty habit out of
fastening my grief
to the sky's front door---
when i write about the ones
death kept in his ******* pocket.
vi.
there is darkness peeling
off to my left,
when i unfold my limbs into the blackness as
lullabies leak onto the grass
and later become the dew
at first light.
vii.
why is it that when
you smile
it takes the shape-
of a morgue
you ***** sunrise, / you filthy legend
take all your diseases home and raise them
as your own children
away from here
away from here.
viii.
I am learning
that the only difference
between a garden and a graveyard
is what you decide
*to put
in
the
ground.
I'm throwing coins into the fountains
and wishing for a quicker death.
© Copywrite Skaidrum
