...Ode to a Dead Poet...
I feel your bones
digging deep into my yielding flesh
to open wounds that were never meant to heal
these little mouths
long to drink your cobwebbed blood
the core of your pain
swallow each dripping word
black deep and angry
I collect your broken pieces
like shards of jagged glass
slicing my hands
to reconnect the whole
with the glue of my own blood
I feed like a rabid dog from your corpse
as I ignite black candles
dripping hot wax over my tortured flesh
screaming insults at demons
to stimulate your resurrection
How I did yearn to taste the pleasure
of your pain
the realm of madness
your fascination with death
the dark sea that you plunged yourself into
willingly
until you finally drown
Someday I may meet you there
but for now
I will wrap you in fine linen
keep you here inside my toy-box
and wait until you come out to play.
Duana R. Anderson
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