Our spines entwined,
Your veins weaving through mine,
A larval knot
Encased in a molten cocoon -
All bedrock and magma
Fused to our flesh.
We are a zygotic mess
Writhing, dripping with sweat
That would extinguish the sun
And rust the sky
If given the chance.
But we hide in the core,
Swaddled in secrets,
Beneath layers of dirt and deceit.
Our venom infects the crust,
Leaving oceans barren
And orchards withered,
As we twist about our refuge,
Eager to rupture the mantle
Pulled tight over our body.
And each spasm is seismic,
Forcing mountains to quiver
Buildings to crumble,
And tectonic plates to grind.
The surface is magnificent in chaos,
We will emerge as one and devour it.
You scour the depths of my throat
With your reptilian tongue,
And find no remorse.

Shattered illusion,
Time bends over backwards.
The greening of autumn leaves
In the warmth of winter's night.
Flesh taught.
Organs burst.
Melting into fetid pools.
Reminders of what was lost.
The life machine has come to halt.
Released from what was,
And burned into memory.

Cloud stained valley,
Ossifrages patrol
Foliage of pain,
Hidden under boulders
Rife with disease.
Lichen tend the biome.
Outsiders beware.
Whispers from the sun-bleached
Summer's oak.
Carried on the shadows
Of every fallen leaf.
Roots write,
Entangle the unseen.
Eggs, webs, bones, waste.
A carapace picked clean.
The buzzing subsides
Keep time to the gnawing
Echoes through dead stones.

There is no sky here,
The ground crawls over my feet.
I cannot hear my voice.
I shout until my lungs deflate.
Walk until my sinews snap.
I go nowhere.
The cage is made of ribs.
My body is consuming itself,
I cannot die.
What I breathe smells of sulfur,
Of moldering flesh, and scorched hair.
Strangled by my own skin,
Lost in my cortex.
This is all I'll ever know.

The old King of the mountainside
Rules through fear-
Moat of blood
Throne stained in fratricide.
A rise to power
Shrouded in dark, mystic knowledge,
Guarded by demons,
Scaled, slithering demons.
The old king of the mountainside
Devours snakes each night,
Stealing their ancient, fork tongued wisdom.

I dream. I sometimes dream
Of a mongoose in my cage
So that I can feel.
So that plight or pleasure
Might move me,
Because I feel nothing
For Justine or Juliette.
A reluctant stoic,
Something keeps me
From beating in time.
There are snakes in my chest,
Constricting tighter and tighter
Around my ribs.
Cracking bones,
Squeezing ventricles,
Pumping venom.
And in my waking life
I don't even care anymore.

Season of death, settle in the bones
Rattle the cage. Shatter the limbs.
There is no escape.
Hide behind your shadow.
Biding time.
When the jaws open wide,
Crawl inside.
Incubating sickness.
Fossilized by madness.
Thoughts broken.
Wither from the core.
Hope exists
Forever out of reach.
Season of death, mounting despair
Cripple the mind. Sever all connections.
A forced march decimated.

Alone, fettered
In the deepest hollows
Of the cave -
Your mind.
Dancing shadows flicker
Across the
High above, ephemeral clarity,
Dangles.
The liars chide.
You idle there,
Blood pools, collects,
And drains.
You idle there.
A glimpse of golden light
From somewhere
Never known.
Rot and soar away
On neoteric wings.

The singing guillotine
Is our harsh reality.
The man removed
From the killing blow
This is empty,
Cold, inhuman.
I long for an execution
Like Darmiens,
A hateful death,
An ugly death, one
At the hands of another
Living man.
I want to look into his eyes
As he binds my arms and legs
To four horses.
Curse his god
As he pours boiling oil and lead
Into my wounds.
In a bloody heap I will lie.
It hurts. Its hurts. It hurts.
I am Relieved.