I seek him in a torrent-bed I seek him in the divine waters of unconstitutional purpose I have no doubt My mind will ease there And that my thoughts will trickle through And down into Between nothing and faith
Somewhere in between I am sure of it
My hand grips blasphemy like a crow How cunning This cry out from my reaches From out of the very depths of me It shudders up and begs It wants to burst from me And caw And scream And turn my brows to arches My face angular with passion ...
It is empty in this chair As I sit and lean back into a space I am destined to fall into Arms wide A look of shock dropping my chin Into a chest you once crossed with your fingertips In such a way My nipples formed perfect candied peaks
The thought of your mouth there, Sets me to rocking Oblivion awaits to swoop me up...
Cold hard facts And points like diamonds
The sky once scattered in them And they shone in my eyes so They scorched And blinded
It is not a pretty thing.. or any kind of delicate cling .... the scent of rose hips to pink skin .... the new morning dew drop To blade of grass, bent from it....
But more like the red shade One might see.. Across two yellowed tooth’s Jagged and arching from a mauvened grin ... teeth like a menacing and red smeared Ancient ivory and bone menagerie ... And pouring stink Pouring stink
It is red and clings and dries to bone ..... and The bone was used to unleash it
I have grown pedestrian claws And dip to roam the sidewalks As if.... the concrete squares below my stealthy Red shoed curling feet Were ushering me in To the gateway Of the badlands
My mind set: Bring on the terror dome This night takes kindly; Havoc Trickfuckery
More than one ornery hillbilly Has nurtured those abilities Psychological warfare ... Matured my finesse with it Far beyond egg yolk And TP The thought; An assault on my sensibilities A loose grip on my...
There was an infinite horse called West He cantered Stallion chest Heaving, thrusting forward Beads of salted sweat To the throttled floor And hardened salt bed flats With gifts of pound and precision The grand machinery of nature Without untimely death To reign the beast in
Mortality can appear a noose Even when the hangman has just cause And the look of a saint Beneath his dark hood
West had no knowledge Of discourage
opposable thumbs were not in his Chocolate brown make up ...