the bruise on a peach and the heart of a shadow

words plucked by cold chameleon missile tongue sadden

me       i believe in neither gods nor monsters but they arrive

after all       those nights i rub lemon rind onto my feet -

the concentrate of the unbeliever       elixir of fresh death

so i think come       unwanted guest       used space

chalked figure there       cloaked ghost in the corridor

the one i unknowingly sidestep to avoid       come      

face me       let your locust gangs move their mouth bits

like the cockroach and sample my bitter contusions

the strange fruit on me       cogitate?       no need

nothing there to breed off       dead flowers' old sap will

lace my dreams with a thousand wishes for this life

but the devastation by bad vibrations will unseal

them all       they turn fluid       do not leave me soused

but move forward and make the past move past faster

alone once more       out-paced by a monster god

my tomorrow challenged by local heathen thoughts

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