Come drink violence
and suck the marrow of dark distemper.
Sink teeth into skull
and gnaw the socket
where once a soul lived.
A kiss and a lie
burned in my cheek
by the scalding moon,
oozing flamelike and raw
from dark mountain prisons,
the red glow of future horrors.
Rush now over the cliff
and deep to my throat
thrust down my turning head
and cull useless tears.
A river of char
burnt by stricken time,
and the means of death locked away.
So that all is left to its own patience,
but to cry and curdle,
and turn its head from the moon.