Writing Wrongs (Death)

Poetic pyramids Built on sins Built with lies Stolen from within Lies which spin Causing you to stay Even when these phrases Are really giving you Reasons to run away From my poems written In a kiss Comparing your voice To bird songs This is my nightingale’s song To write wrongs Not one but two Horns the devils Return to their perch Sit so calmly on both My shoulders throwing Boulders not stones at the Mirrors in glass house Feelings whispering me “re-live your evil" not “relieve” and kill These weasels Harvest feelings Cotton crops words Used to prop open Doors to desire dripping From my fingers my evil Perspires soaks defences Get sticky and unbearable Fogs prescription lens’s My drugging offensive Call these phrases vines The undermining factor Used to shatter defences Picking locks on chastity Belts nothing like this Ever felt so write (ing) Wrongs