Friday, April 30, 2010

Goodhood

There lurks darkness in the loveliest of eyes
and the guilest of toes
your breath, turns all the rancid aches into the
pit-fire of madness' trench.
Your mouth, the lovely dark burst of
flesh in the lines of a lip
is a place to bury the salt from my
time with the vultures of rest.
your godhood, mortgaged for two words in the
abyss of my mind
your ashes, while you live,
scatted upon the infiltrating needles
of love unearthed

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