oozing, sliding
gently colliding
with mocha locks
claret melds to living flesh
a clotting mesh
on silken cloth

a solitary moth
cleaves for a while
neath the artist's smile

tainted silver clock
ticks in the distance
time no longer in existence

cold hard steel
makes her reel
feathers tickle her fancy

for him, its necromancy
under the glare
of a rose stare

clinging to the cloud of musk
the darkening dusk
lingers on letters cut
on the mangy slut
of a whore
I once screwed
on the floor
of a pit
hanging on the hook
of a thought
spiralling
from the stamen of a daisy
to the part that's crazy
deep
steep
within us all

creep
weep
before you fall
at the call
of your inner
bladewriter