Wednesday, November 27, 2013

warm voice

Here speaking vaguely to me. 

bodies in pain were lying 
on an unmade bed. hours. 
my steps are the Disorder the signs
towards the Master drawing further 
till Alive.

my tongue and throat is your caress, Dark One. 

your path through my mouth retracing the Originals.

Here, the orphanage where god catches a glimpse of the truth. I exist no longer breath but waters unfold like an animal opening the World between us. it is bleeding across the lines. I wrote you my saliva warm on the table among knives. Why not? 

thoughts unwind flesh. it is bleeding and growing the wound . only prisoners of war understand this leisure.  love is barbaric. it knocks and remains silent for a moment. then it knocks again and cannot be denied without wildfire, in its giant naked wings. 

Everything spins about me  looks at me  I know the bottom  the blinding bottom... 


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