Sloth
Give me ends untold by the crimson lords. Spread words of hatred upon the marooned heads of time. Creep along with me, creep along. Split the atoms of scattered loves and call for a halt (H: hungry, A: angry, L: lonely, T: tired).
I am all the adjectives, the sweet tragedies, the weary tunes, I am the faces behind the fire, the snow flecks on your skin, the grace of your decaying sight, I am punctuation, I am the spectator’s satisfaction. I am the aching honey.
Oh Muse I curse you, I heave you a sigh.
My ancestors the pharos half naked taught me how to hunt death, to idolize it. Half naked they visit my dreams and paint my soul with ancient runes and bring me a blue sun, a Nubian harp and long defeats. Half naked they inject the “bastard wisdom” of patience into my soul. Half dead they smile my life away.
My mother; the pure blood shoots them flies while standing on the whimpers of mermaids. My mother the pure blood plays the lead guitar in a symphony of light. She inhales heavens and exhales Hell. My mother the pure blood spanks the dreams out of me and fills me with broken gods. She restores arms and cuts the aid. My mother the pure blood dies in my grip and gets resurrected in my aging back.
Oh Muse I beg you, I light you a darkness.
I capture you my sweet child, I buy all the things, the deeds and the moments. I capture you my sweet child, I bestow poetry on you, I bless you with Blue and bathe you in forgetfulness.
My death is your Love to which the crystals of boredom are forged.
