in rivers of right they spawn

eggs already torn and bent

that grow deprived of dawn

to salve and heal their rent

and battered by a rusty flail

to a state not unlike trance

a polka spinning them pale

to a hapless agony of dance

chalking symbols onto slate

a scratch makes evil mute,

silent observances of hate

doomed flora lacking root

sometimes they...

Read and leave comments (0)

no hairy lip has she or wrinkle

a far cry from ancient crones

her skin as smooth as marble

sweet melodies in her moans

black cats are always a clue

in the house hers does roam

its carbon eyes following me

at its muzzle flecks of foam

waking last night in terror

to the Devil she's chanting

buck naked and sweating

my blood she's decanting

her eyes h...

Read and leave comments (0)