Smart mouths are bullet catchers,
our own flesh made fly traps,
cunning descendants, villain spawn,
same bark and blood and mirror stone.
We wade our petty storms alone,
we stop only for blade and moon,
The lick of sharpened tongues that moan,
come whistling through our rattle bags.
Burn and break and splinters make
There is no hope in fate’s white teeth
Jaws that bite and wrench and rend
To drag us to our bloody end.
Come slaughter me with kisses true,
Fall back into the bliss of night,
All the frights that slide away,
across the pillow.
The nightly stains, those unfelt pains
our mind weaves us a sweet illusion.
We breathe in the must and sweat,
Of all our desires.
A clockwork bride we keep inside,
To enact our precious yearning,
While we fall into the space beside
our lover’s grave.
They left for us a hollow ark,
unwashed marks and shadows bare,
They made for us a soft ruin-raft
to travel in.
The scrape of skin on skin on sheets
And unsaid whispers on repeat,
The rasp of nails on skin and sheets,
And silent blue tongues.
They hold us still and hold us tight,
The wardens through the long cold night,
As we await the break of day,
And loneliness again.
Comes the light to divorce delight
To split us open to the world again,
Our bed is warm, not full, but still
You were real once.
Come then to bending and breaking, shaming,
The light of life you live in midnight’s curve
The herb of youth you swallow, squandering,
The sighs that your pale companions deserve.
You have learnt well the art of blaming others,
For your cruel misfortunes and untamed locks
Thus you waste and wither would be brothers.
You beach your full belly across the rocks,
Across the teeth of better men, you lie
small in mouths that can’t forgive wandering,
Or shaking hands that show your secret sighs,
That child’s hope that leaves you quivering,
What sweet graveling, a ghostling you will make
When you drink down desire for desires sake.
Life’s little body count,
the roll of days like blood in the veins,
so close to surface that we can feel it
thrum and ebb away like winter snowdrift,
lines of past
days flicking across the snow.
Droplets that sow a whole being,
smoking bullet holes,
up to clouded skies.
White and grey and red,
White and grey and dead.
Dear raven meat,
faces that laugh at their own red soaked death,
teeth rattling as dice across the floor,
we’ll throw the bones together,
slump and sigh knowing
now the fate of snake eyes.
A winner’s hand shining
in a still eye.