Thursday 3 July 2014

morning star

a dance with the Devil
always begins
with

the skin
under my
fingernails

torn apart

as we dig into
each others'
dermis,

deep into
the somber ocean
of memory

where she
dissolves
into ashes

where I
wait for her
sinking

wrecked and
broken.



a dance with the Devil
always begins
with

a silent passing
the obituary
of us

sweet and sour
as we split
like the atom

drown,
fall asleep
under the stars

and forget each
others'
faces

the echo of
our first
laughs

it was never
just
a dance

more a
nightmarish
ritual

the summoning
of storms
and rain

arresting,
combustible
magic

that ends in pain.