angering bones

 

I have an anger in my bone
it doesn’t quell so easily
it comes as spasms in my heartbeat
my all so crooked heartbeat
pure in intentions; ragged in breaths
Aesop in my soul and a sinner trying to de-forest me nearby

tampered was my sex; inching for satiation
yet chaste in its questioning, hungering
why is it so easy to be bared but not to be virginal
I wonder, I wonder, I wonder —
and they showed me porn images and said my sex
was a black hole for a probe; they want me to know oblivion
and they want to know love; love of themselves in my carcass
a living dead; aren’t they necro induced?

and my anger spasms harder; wished it could be a cursed storm
destroying the bullying heartless bodies and piling up them
and stating that you hurt me so now you pay the price to the prince
whose white armour you stained and black swords you scratched and belted
into an impurity and then say sing with us, stay by us, so we can masticate
and masturbate on you more.

my anger, oh my beloved anger, don’t easily leave me
for I hope the alchemy of my soul and bones
designed by God’s Beautiful Being make these
into a passion that gauges the storm’s eye and transcends
both on the Earth’s crust and chosen skies like a kiting angel
with a warrior’s wings see the world as a cup of water to drink
and know with ease.

Speak yer mind

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