Gouged

We have hated in a blaze, these bark skins...fleshes (?...)
languish - bearing down  
birthing barren anguish  
Rolls furl, as do our toes  
and slippery tips  
heat licks our secrecies  
a neck bare and brandished...so begging  
for a burn - saturne under ambition's fervor    
kneels -  appealing  
squealing for a turn  
   
Harnessed by yokefull humanity  
mulch amasses - chokes the flame    
A bakery for half-cooked cravings;  
a darkroom for us undeveloped - radiant as    
Genesis in nemesis...namely...  
they turned the fluorescents on  
   
Fushia engravings pulse - our departed    
thermal dermal    
heartstrings    
fraying on the sleeve  
   
Brevity braids burnscars  
map-wise passageways - a gravity pulling    
on our days  
   
Orb weaver dream reapers  
prop their webs, oh yes...  
Tidied lines - cypress likenesses  
dying  
dustway  
grave-ward shrieks  
   
Deadness, status - palettes of domestic - bleak