incubus

a little god in hand
is worth all of the marbles
children roll across
dead swans.

oxygen molds itself
in my nasal passages
and my eyelids
turn to stone.

sweep sanguine across jawlines
white opals showing
iris irresistibly irregular
mishapen and carnal

canine corpses gnashing teeth
at my earlobes
taste victory on your lips
and defeat on my breath

my name is godiva
under your serenade
as i crawl through
lain concubines.

this seraglio reeks
with freshly planted
wreaths in a body
of herbs not made
for ingestion.

craft boxes full of poison
a siren stone vault
filled with decomposing sanity
painted with enigmas

hang the walls with fruits
born for masscre
crack each and decipher
how your mouth aches

carnage in the trapezoids
made for rats,
the peaches drip
solemn and solitude.

the culprit radiates
a familiar gloom
in the crook of the neck
slithering down
a contortionist spine.

let arachnid crypts
spill destruction across the floor
your veins lay ajar

while you're
still
begging