Mange

Go where the water runs red with my blood
Where the soil runs rust with my bones
To the West, the remains of my fallen dreams, to the East, my deadened soul…
You know what you did
You know who you are
Time has a way of melting the violence but still leaves poisonous scars…
Prayer into dance, knife into skin, salt into wound while the earth swallows screams
Sweet sage tentacles sweeping every inch of my wormwood mind to wipe you clean…
In the hall of infallible mirrors, take off that blindfold, open those guilty, corrupt eyes –
Mange! Mange! The glass reflects the truth; Your professors text of anagrams squeals your disguise
That heart-shaped swamp smeared with rancid deceit, self centered orgies, and cheap, delusional truths
Your spewing mouth deserves a barbed needle and arsenic thread –
Those formaldehyde veins, wasted stone-eyes, toxic stench of hemlock that disturbs the dead…
And now, twisted ruins decaying, mind the carcass of debris
It would be lovely to give you just one taste of what you’ve done to me
All the nuns are running mad
The angels tear their wings in blessed fits while demons dissect hope
You reduced me to a voyeur, hiding behind the curtain with haunted, melting eyes
You sought what is mine with an illiterate mind, but the pages he penned clearly defined –
I am his light, and his dark, his eternal breath –
Loved before time birthed our reflection into existence; Conjured by his thirst for my spirit
Our typescript of paraphed prose a lush novella bound by celestial blood; Pay attention to chapter and verse –
I am his only blessing. I am his only curse
I am indelible centuries and hold all dreams in my lacerated arms –
When there is no faith to oil the hands of time, smooth its aloof, apathetic philosophy…
When there is no charity to lure the moon from her desolate mood
I am insanity methodically wrapped in sane
If I bothered to hate you
If I wasted my time…
It would mean that you meant something to me
When you only meant something to yourself
Squirm in the corner with your straightjacket psychosis
With your insipid, narcissistic, inanimate, detestable soul
Claw the paint from the walls with your tart nails in a dramatic fit
While your foul breath howls, spews your toxic disease –
In an effort to make yourself relevant
The succulent divine will never be your understanding –
No summery absinthe clouds painting animals and daffodils in your sky
Eternal love bound in amaranth laces…
Moon night, moonlight, lipstick kisses trailing down
Cosmic coupling, chemical bondage, fragrant flesh, exquisite derangement
An innate knowing, no mortal or universal force will sever ecstasy dark and beautiful –
These chandelier layers of agony confection
Climatic lust and love connection
Sutured souls held captive willingly; Define Loves reason and its season
Soul eater, anathema… You will never have mine, nor thine –
Your existence is a mediocre nuisance, a pathology to be excised…
I have no remorse regarding your birth; The path to you brought mine to me
Your smoky shadow smudged into the void with no regret –
Cool night air and cigarette amulet; Curls of smoke hearts and poppy stars beneath a twilight sky
Moon tide baptizes me, takes you out to sea…
Lesson learned, lesson learned, have you heard? Wide awake eyes speak in wordless poetry
Loves definition is his and mine alone, and no other one, no other one will come between…
Feral, fetish, exultation, sacred, mystical, transcendental
Deviant devotion, spirit ejaculation, divine ferociousness, luminous sublime
Atemporal Love, its perfume wafting through all dimensions, peculiarities, complexities and time