Crossroad Blues
sold my crux for poetic flux
to an immortal husk in a tux,
his musk was of the set dusk,
waft of an abattoir in the sun.
he ton of tone and run,
poetic stun gun and it's so fun,
coaxing to come as we begun,
this everyday smoke show pun.
all crossroads hex in texas,
misses of the vexes voodoo temptress,
dyslexic he continues his flex,
till I twist him like a pop - breaking his neck.
mex wicka wick a candle lit
to submit his payment with spirit -
definite light emits a dreamt cadence,
where his limbs go limp in menstruation.
lips stick press to succulent a test,
hollow nostril breath as lipstick vortices,
rousing muses coos in this faded faze
of alumni haze - as I maze his days away.
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