the meadows of sins incarcerated by savage deserts
like malignant crocodiles in moats
buoyant in intruders' ebonized blood,
drunk on an ungodly flower bud
or haunting gargoyles made of suffering stone,
arcane penumbra, and sinister Behemoth bone
Death (Valley) distributes sinners to the Valley of Fire (hell)
because Vegas wants your body,
i want your soul,
but so does Asmodeus
you say you're holding on by a thread
but the head of a sheep pulls that single strand
a head of a bull unstitching me,
lacerating the stitches of my skin,
letting my soul percolate to my feet
a head of a man,
daggers for teeth
and fire for breath
YOU ARE READING
JE TE LAISSERAI DES MOTS ━━ poetry
Poetrya man takes his sadness down to the river / but then he's still left / with the river. a man takes his sadness and throws it away / but then he's still left with his / hands. POETRY © putrescentpoet 2021
