MAUDLIN MAWS▪︎Poetry (3)

36. Sharpshooter

In the nexus of the revolver enters a malignant sufferer in quietus
Hauling my jerking wrists that tail along to hunt the blueprint of his likeness
The braided sorrel-eyes bristled
The mouth gingery paved to the barrel of my gorge like a rotten malady
Per item hounding_ I pester in his complexion
Fingers lambent to the spired warmth occult the ferocity of his open throttle
Cogent intuition vacates the room
Ductile to the sights he's offering me thin-skinned and tender
Hoisting me by the thirsting hinges apointed plush on my hips
The reek of tantalising peril sitting on the precipice
Aborning a new set of flesh-eating mills
All attesting on scrounging me inward
Laying offal in the vermeil naval-sun
Curled in his cusps not refuting the spurting notion of being without my most brutal clipping
Disrobed to undrabed breasts and naked anima
I wired with a ripe aim launch all of my loaded shells of longings
Calefacted all stamping to embrace his cheer

7/ 4/2023