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March 14, 2005
Muse, and Metal
She awakes in me, every day,
sipping out, she gets up,
standing in the mirror,
She combs her hair black,
As she stares calm
Sweet demon,
Awhward, the way she
Looks, Girl peasant
High cheeck bones,
Eyes of black
Under thick brows,
Boned nose, leading
To abondant lips
Of supple red moist,
She carries all the effections
Of a hesitating God,
Fierce in his strokes,
gentle in his intentions,
Generous in its subtleties,
With beauty in mind.
I can chisel stones,
And finf where it bends,
Cracks, and bemoans,
I can carve pieces of wood,
trespassing paints on canvas,
And have tried to redeem what
stands between her eyes and the mirror,
But I lose her as I focus,.......
She crawls inside me,
every pores and cavities,
She tilts my head, walks my legs,
Smiles with my mouth,
And chews fierce, aching my teeth,
She holds pens in my hands,
Words in my head, daringly
Shameless, writes to her delight.
And every night
She lays in me, coffin like,
Whispers, prays, argues, and chimes,
Denying her heresy of the creator, and the muse
Posted by Idinraha at March 14, 2005 12:16 PM