|
Snuff It #2 |
|
The Coldest Air
by Raven Drake
A clod of a cock-lover
Yawns between thrusts
Pierces a dead-lover
Behind the wall of trust
Bereft of a cross
And chosen by the slain
He can't forgive a flesh-less body
Scavenging for blame
The yawning gulf
Between an orphan and an heir
Leaves the stray boys hovering
In the coldest air
Fear is the ghost
A boast between their legs
Jagged, waving hands
Reach them from the dregs
They're pumping it up in the garden of celibates
Love like barley bristling in the heat
Then a cold blast of laughter pours from a virgin
And thick, bulky boys recoil in defeat
They grope to anoint
The shadow-beast between them
But the coarse meal they share
Will never sustain them
The clod of a cock-lover
Mutters angrily
As desire exhorts
A hidden litany
He sings before
The augurs of doom
And cries out for covering
When mercy leaves the room
A bull of a man
Bows to cadavers
And thinks with a mind
Bent inward from chatter
He points his battle-flag
And his horny tongue
In the direction
Of the stiff boys he hung
Encrusted in raw flesh
And a ruffian's hustle
Love gathers dust
Flexing hopeless muscle
prev ·
index #2 ·
next
|