homage to the corpse king






mellow sunrise is naught but

draughts, aphids have long since

had their stems packed, veils

of bric-a-brac silver sewn against

struggled hedges are tattered

and homeless now a few

limbs hang




sullen assassins are about in

their corduroy rusty horizons,

the meat of silence is appalling

noise, wasp worthy drunks are

trying to bee about and ill fitting

succeeding, ashtray dusks ruin

sought after mornings




clocks slide lifeless against minds

seas upon their sleepy tides seeking

lonely processions into concussion,

roots are submerged further where

conversations whiten, rotten daft

trumpets are few and fewer wings

take bodies upwards




self harm is dismantling fingers and

leaving exposed wrists for mistletoe

corners, not quite shivered yet lungs

will crease soon with fever’s glisten,

halloween gristle and whispers of

masks, pumpkin plentiful flesh, risks

of colours becoming cadavers


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