Poem -

The curse of Blood

ONE STAIN ON THE IMMORTAL TONGUE

 swinging white boned hands
played rhythmically across the black and white ocean
splashing the occasional spectre
risen from the dead of slumbers dusted hammock
her sparsely spat conversation
surfaced  on the trail

 ripped corset lay displayed by the moon
that extra layer causing a rushed delay
this human form, this shadow
naked, sweetly positioned on an
Antique piano stool,
her lover shrouded by the lightest white Egyptian cotton sheet
seemed to shudder
gulping on crimson diving life
his gaping gurgles dripping alongside
the swift crescendo of notes
she exploded in orgasmic ghoulish delights

How long had she drifted through this eternal fountain
so many having retreated to other realms
high on the climatic passion so freely given
and so freely taken
painless sharp the nails were driven

as she played she found her mind
alight back in times when crucifixion
was a shadow she often planted,

Blood, sticky, dark, bright, life
Ironic Silence called, her trembling form to the lovers
fragrant stillness
She had drowned aboard waves of skinless lovers
some she dreaded, but they all craved absolution

Another draining memory
she had watched him wash those hands
as a crowd pulsed in denial
and priestly vampires begged his crucifixion
paying for her interest and clambering for souvenirs
that one droplet emerald and ruby
had christened her tongue
now everlasting thirst everlasting immortality
she sentenced to sucker sin,

She could have just stayed at home
yet the drawing  was a good likeness
but she was a lot closer,

  Art, she gave a quivering laugh
drinking her fill
from the strange silver goblet
amen
came in a slashing whisper.
amen.

 

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