The Dark Poet
O, letting my thirsty, thirsty thoughts slip
off from the back of my head onto the
screen of your great lie as smart as a whip
leads me back to the berry field where we
used to stroll our shadows, to ravage this
love, smearing it with berries so bloody!
Then, my thoughts and I were cute and at ease,
patching the crack in the mirror of your
life, with a quill deplumed from my own piece.
And I humbly affixed the signature
of my lips, on yours, for posterity
when you were so well asleep in my cure.
But why, oh why, you let a bumble bee
remind you your failed history? Ah, now...
you’re the loneliness of my poetry!
Wild you, wild you, don’t you really darn know
a bit of what you sow is what you reap?
That to the uselessness of nights you’ll bow...
O, letting my thirsty, thirsty thoughts slip...
beware, for I surely know how to pray!
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