Sick and yellowed.
They writhed and sighed absurdly like a porn actress in her final curtain call.
Shuffling on numb legs.
Leading the long walk into winter.
Limbs spasm and convulse like the camera flash at Jonbenet Ramsay's wake.
A black-handed King Midas laughing at the sick and the stranded, pulling them headfirst below the ice.
Crown of tar and coal holding the devil's tongue bewteen his teeth.
Hunger clawing its way out of the hole in between.
Disconnecting the bones to make room for foul air.
Missing the point, he whispered in my ear "
You shall love no one, sleep forever in the shadow and the cruel grin of the future's shroud" I'm forever unclean but I will rinse my vulture's beak in the water pouring from your blue lips.
Add Comment