Blood, wine, and Hope

Blood and wine
as broken hearts
mended in the midst
of hurricane season.
My body possessed and murky.
I surrendered my
shadowy light
to the new Aeon,
and coughed up
the rest to the end of the world
monster and mania,
that swept over
rough surfaces like
bare feet pacing through
glass fragments
and the nasty scent of

I missed rough sex
at six in the morning,
handprints on
freshly bleached white walls,
sultry syrup and juicy
long deep sighs lingered
and transformed,
ever so delicately,
into moans that
called the moon down
to join us high with pleasure
in the early daylight.

And Fuck it,
the sex was just that delicious
that I could’ve
slurred ravenous nuanced
syllables together
to try to explain the
drug of your sexuality
in my pumping veins,
but I decided to
take hold of my tongues tight
and run away with
your cum still dripping
from my bleeding feet.

Then the Memphis bound
tornado hit
and the land-scaped,
skewed and fretted,
pacing and twitching
with tears dancing
down cheeks in hospital
IV drips make me sick
and hell waited for us
outside the stain-glass window.
Cancer will drive us all mad,
make no questions, or answers, statements,
concerns, gestures, rolling of eyes, vibrations,
stanzas long enough, harpists, drugists, singers of great odes,
witch doctors, schizophrenics, seers, believers, hopers, dreamers, makers
of wishes, witches, vagrants, flagrants, bleeding hearts,
vampires licking their wounds, angel light flooded with toxins,
freelance writers, smiles in the midst of great pain and grief.

I wept while dancing
and felt free
for the first time in
a month.
Nothing is quite as it seems,
especially me,
Ive found,
the raven sings its
sullen lullabye
in my nightmares
and then in my waking visions
I saw sweet spirit gatherings,
Healing hands,
Soft touches,
and great laughters
even in the midst
of the darkness to come. 

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