When you take off your clothes, you resemble a Greek sculpture – blank-eyed;
preying upon me like a vulture awaiting my decay. They say “look up to the sky
for an answer
”, but all I see’s a dancer biding its final act; flapping its wings
in hope to create a hurricane. You call yourself insane for feasting amongst the deceased
(it’s okay… I was never that alive anyway); bowing down to that label
like a hopeless Christian. I can display all my organs on this table
so you can satiate your hunger as you please. Between each placebo kiss,
there’s a boiling point triggered by dried up lips. With this, I may explode
before becoming one with your feathered curves, or I may let myself go
until your beak gets the taste of my nerves.
This is bloody good! A real joy to read aloud, to play with the rhythm, tempo and rhyme, I really enjoy poems that let you experiment with the points of emphasis, like verbal punching, a nice sort of performance piece. Good stuff.