feast

Let spill the sizzling hilt of sword

that dams your flooding blood with steel

the lapping blade, its greedy stains

which bring the coping rain.

 

My vision blurs, I sink and swirl

and every cell within.

my poison will never win

I vomit ink to cure the meat

of pages of empty sin.

 

Make me a steak of refusal-fate

and I’ll spit in my hand and grin.

I’ll slay whatever filthy hound

would cut my bile with gin.

 

I don’t know who I am when all these wordlets nip my skin

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Recipe

Good blood burns like smoke and bone,

The current tugs away my home.

My flutter-feet desire the wind

My gypsy gaze pools distastefully

I do not want any of this future

Or

history

Doll

Each night my silk-skin shudders
And my yarn-hair starts to fall
The black matte buttons that give me sight
Grow dim and lose their light.

The nightmares climb up bookcases and
Nest in the dust on my grin
They stretch their claws in my overalls
And kiss the freckles on my chin. 

I cannot fight the shadows, so my weaknesses grow strong
Each night the dimness fills my limbs
And seeps into my soles. 

I try to whisper, “help me, please”,
But the child-folk cannot hear. 
So tears of dust fall from my eyes
And I let the shadows near. 

With dawn my shivers grow warmer
And the sun brings back my gleam
I smile painted lips at children
Who see only what they want to see.