Author Information
dust
it won't flow
i promise
just cut
and see
it was sugary for a while
for a while
it was poison
or actually more rum
then last year
there was a time
it was made of cigarette smoke
then it was pinched and stabbed
but none of it forced
yes upon request
there was no one
pressuring me
to step in the middle
of that triangle
no, not wican
just a 'love' one
though the rituals
were very much the same,
swearing, cursing
blood of innocents
everything
and for a while
it was slick
like crude
if it could be
regenerated over and over
quickly, you would have been rich
because you sunk it
so far underground
for so long
with such pressure
yes, you could have
profited from it
and now
now it's as if
it's it's blinding in
it's hate
as if it's seeking
and finding everything good
far, far too late
it's as if it's riding
shotgun simply to shoot
not even in any hunt
just in it's own right
in particular to spite
or root out any
kiindness
which finds it binded
and wants to set it free
it latches on and cultivates
mistrust
and spawns mountains
and mountains of pure
and simple lust
and then breaks them down
just for joy
it's as if it's sole mission
is to devour
what it must
and this is the state
now of this blood
which was so easily
turned to dust.
X.
