Making a Doll in HellFrom hands wrought with decay,
I sculpted you from the deepest, red clay
and shaped your form in funeral pyres;
raised you up with damaged hands,
out the dead-man's fire.
I sutured your sides with my own hair,
bound your limbs and threaded together tears,
and I beat you so you would soften up
then pulled over the clay; filled it,
with my own skin; with my own blood.
And as we sat below amorphous skies,
I poured sand into your empty eyes,
until they overflowed into building dunes,
turned to glass, and shone like diamonds;
like stars from out a darkened room.
And I built your soul from memories,
sought out from days so heavenly
as the majesty of a blooming orchard,
the caress of an infatuated lover
and the perception of a child, unaltered.
Then I bound you up with love and grace,
sent you far away with a hopeful, farewell embrace;
tied you to a growing, darkened cloud -
and let it lift you to heights
high above the Avaddon.
I pray (one day) you'll know love of a different kind,
Boy.(i set my legs on fire):thumb326124872:
One night too many:
Breathing, bleating heavy
with two timid fingers
(delving deeper than you want)
tapping the keys in need;
fiddling out a swan song
of choral pleads.
Black and white abstract eyes:
Faultless symptom-sheet skies.
(i think i'm losing my mind)
What do you mean "We'll see"?
Crotch locked and your key
broke the skeleton's bones
and last night's audial tones.
Popping like the bulbous head
grinding against the lonely sheets.
(four years' experience in the wrong respect)
If you won't set my body ablaze,
I'll do the deed myself.
There are matches and candles
and unwaxed love handles
only a click away.