I
Slow poison
Is that what i
Am injecting
Into the system
For a death delayed
That I can record
With the slow
Internal combustion
How gently
the fire spreads with
what savage relish
it licks through my veins
how mine is
sublimation at the end
every sinew every tendon
aflame
a deliberate pact
with an infernal pain
a cry of anguish
pity, shame
a mad cry of lust
passion, rage
the poison takes effect
im caught in my game
II
Have me wonder
Why should this
Arm twist to churn
Tongue twisters as
Confessions of
A post-romantic nature
Fictions of a surreal kind
To bring to thought
Provender and hope
To the world at large
Since suddenly
Tongue tied there
Is a vacuum
In the stomach
When the time comes
To offer to them that
Would appreciate
Something to clasp, grip hard
The wood is hollow
only conducts sound
makes it louder
not in each tap ample
the strength of the fibre
and every sound
lives in fear
of crumpling, collapsing
in the silence of despair
When all it
Would take are
The same words
I practice pulling
out of a hat
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