breathing blackness

lungs full of nightmares

scorpions of fear in my throat

violins weeping their

bittersweet enchantment -

in the dusk’s smouldering fire

the paper moon

is going up in smoke;

dark leeches feed

on our wanton waiting

we reek of fresh blood

and indifference

we taste like blindness -

air, water, tears -

only loneliness is solid:

a black glass pyramid

filled with white lilies

and fragrant lies.

i tell myself 

that i must begin writing this story,

finish it

then let it into the wind

so that it will dissipate the darkness,

perhaps be absorbed by other souls,

poison other dreams

and i shall be relieved

and continue my voyage

barefoot, my steps lighter,

no ghosts following me.

there is no separation

between thought and utterance

in the kingdom of words - 

my mouth is full of silence

like wet cotton,

my days carry no light -

i am a puppet of hope,

i am moved by a god

who holds the strings

of cause and effect.

night dust

dream poison

lily-of-the-darkmouth

rose of blood

tomb wine

broken lullaby

wasted lives

bones and sour hopes -

let go of your dominion,

sweet queen of blackness