deepundergroundpoetry.com
Feeding the Monster
Slightly altered, pinions square,
Ah, I like this face fine.
Brightly deposed, buyer beware
The thing that you'd name "mine."
Her psalm a wail of travesty,
Her veil a gleam of hope...
Cold palm, denial and tragedy
Given a dead man's grope.
Liquid organic suicide,
It whets the taint of lips.
Insipid kiss, manic the ride
Of mind-altering trips.
Tethered to negative emote,
Audacity takes plunge.
Weathered resolve, so keenly smote,
Turns infantile grunge.
The lure, so tightly spun, not rope...
Desire coiled tight to spool.
So pure the chronic misanthrope
Must even play her fool...
...To live for love, dying in wait.
...To break harmony's stand.
My gift to you, whom I would break,
This kiss of jealous strand.
Through tempest rage, the ebon char
Of dreams she'll just disperse.
Tempt not this sage, no, chances are
You'll not survive her verse.
Just fall cock-first into those eyes,
While face grows thin and sere.
To all who watch, with no surprise,
Another playmate disappear.
Published 16th Nov 2015
| Edited 1st Jan 2016
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