I am fluent in
the tongues of
my lost willow language.
No one can remember
what patience has done
to my
forbidden
filthy
tongue.
So let me be your kindred scribe,
let me endure the ******* eternal wrath of taming a demon such as the one that runs like the Volga river in your honeysuckle veins,
I'll die trying,---
for you.
“Ahkira, I'll set this mirror up for you--"
"Lycan, it'll skew my beauty."
Quote on quote you howled the December
lyrics & spun my name in the elements of the atmosphere &
Aurora borealis.
"I promised, didn't I?"
Etching your voice in the hollow
drums I call my
mind & skai.
It's always been there.
Eyes catching the coals of
Jupiter,
foam and lust
driving your
shadow-bitten sanity.
Hostile under the wax of the moon,
burning like matches you stumble
in my constellation.
"i spy
lovely sleeves of poetry
raindrops slipping into weeping veins
lungs of january
& silver bucket eyes."
You tattooed this on your arm,
Lycan.
“It’s the moon that pulls our waters,
distance doesn’t count.”
I tattooed this on mine.
Arching up the sky ladder
I'll climb it to show you
I'm worthy.
.
Movement No. 3.
Written on June 8th, 2015.
I'm struck by the
beast staring back at me
Let me stargaze,
It's always been you.
© Copywrited.
