Torpor,
Headaches,
Beadaches,
Stress, and
Snow
Here I lie
Paralyzed
And consumed
By you
Being bruised
And bled
Like I’ve wandered
Into your web
Skin soft like flakes
That fall outside
How it gives to the touch
And how it melts with me
Wrapped up as I’m
In your cocoon
Bandaging me in slik
Spun of cyanide
Bruised neck
Paralyzing my stem
To the core
Of where petal beds bloom
Red like roses
Vulnerable
And thornstress poised
To stoke desire
Rooted in the soil
Of worlds of blankets
The world
We make love upon
Stayed quiet
Of yuletides and spookiness
Of ghosts that creep through
Halls of my home
In the dead of Christmas morning
Consume Reality! 