smashed in,
fleshed out,
quartz needles
in marble veins
bodily soak, corks of dead vintage
body roped with quickened lisps of airy hemp
admitted to the diaphanous habit
art of godhead, incensed spirit eyes
so orange crushed atop horrified stilts,
propped up storms, leaning heavy leather sails
know you've been wrong in your dying since it began the eating
put it all past your carcass
and try hidden violence
on the little voice in shambles
reminding you. . .
you've yet to leave
sobriety.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment