Bleeding round trip in

spontaneous darkness.

Tragedy doesn’t strike

two nights in a row.

Loves finger tips dances

on the hair of my

bruised thighs.

Or was it loss.

The bulb flickers

passionately before

my pupils roll back.

 

Seeking the sea king for

scalding redemption.

Shaking off thee

shattered glass

and watching the 

remaining shards

meet the Earth. 

The mirror doesn’t

show my reflection 

like it used too. 

Sleep, 

Sleep through the pounding slow

and the beating drums. 

Sleep my child. 

The bleeding Earth will

clot soon to your swoon 

and the moon will relieve 

Earth’s doom.

Sleep, 

Sleep through the marble chains

and the beating drum. 

Sleep my child. 

Stockings cut at the toe

before they could walk in my shoes.

Wearing Black and Yellow

to all the games

that’s why we win, 

right? Head tilted to

the side

shunned from the light

one antenna down and one

up. That’s why we win, 

Right?

Everything on backwards, 

name breathing in the salty

fragrance of cheese and shit 

and never moving an inch, 

that’s why we win, 

Right? 

Chain screams premium  life.

Jacket stripe cries for those missing.

Shoes walk an evelation higher

then you can see. 

The floors won’t mop themselves. 

Breaking patterns of

black and white. 

Trademark Italy film

strolling down coblestone

to your love. 

Long stills of jaws

and lips

flowing red.

Bring forth the jacket. Share a night

in prison of myself and myself.

Taste of raw speed

in blades of striped grass

ignites the inner flame.

Tracking traces of blank cards

checks and faces fills a sea

of roaring lions.

They won’t hunt among

the savages, only pick

at the raw speed.