deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Ahooga Winds
As the ahooga of the winds loses its libido turning to silence, dripping. Closing the window abstaining from the frost of my pipedreams. From the scullery of my mind's masago, edible eggs, and roe.
Like a lozenge of pasticcio on my tongue. Creeping a flow of crud beneath the larvae light. Touched by the breath of trickling flesh. From the barium's metallic night.
The blessed long-tail rodent of divinity scratched my throat. Tressed-up in a gothic bow. Hung like wilted red roses from the cellar obscene spilling its blood, like warm mulled red wine. Whispering a macabre saving gracious prance before it repines parting the canvas on death's easel.
Like a lozenge of pasticcio on my tongue. Creeping a flow of crud beneath the larvae light. Touched by the breath of trickling flesh. From the barium's metallic night.
The blessed long-tail rodent of divinity scratched my throat. Tressed-up in a gothic bow. Hung like wilted red roses from the cellar obscene spilling its blood, like warm mulled red wine. Whispering a macabre saving gracious prance before it repines parting the canvas on death's easel.
Published 17th Sep 2021
| Edited 18th Sep 2021
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