Monday, January 28


Part 1

Breathless, I am. Breathless, She.
The lust. The rage. The want to need.
To lie. To lie. To lay. Inside.
The violin’s rage, my heart strings cry;
they rub and moan and fuck and grin.
She breathes. She cries. She peaks. She sins.
She tells me, she is on the brink.
She stammers, she lows, we quake – we sink.
The ash, it rises, from mortal rest.
The dust, it settles, upon her breast.
One last dance, I know there’ll be.
Will I sway, or will she bleed?

Part 2

If darkness swayed, would light provide,
the ballast, the song, the night’s horizon.
If stars were still within its breath,
would orbs be statued in black tide’s breach.

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