If I could draw my nails
Through the night ink
What I could write of purity.
Brooding a sonnet of emptying
Blessed partnership and mindless with
The elder Gods of starless ness.
I am a twitch in the light
blood purpled in a void of illusion
Everything I see, needs killing.
I am the faithful wolf of the dance
At the dark knife of the waltz
A body is emptied of the universe.
Murderous children, ash burned graybeards
Longing for the heat, of easy passion,
I stroke the furnace, on the darker vast.
