Awakening to the milky, morning phlegm of a new day. There's a fresh angel in my blood, Its feathers are not wings anymore, My acid plucked them from its pretense...its innocence. My transformations made it love me enough, To want to be inside fallen-flesh. Locked inside the veins of a demonic highway of peace. A razor-blade in my mouth, Floating on a salival muscle of lust. Pray I don't swallow! Lest I cut and release my tenant into confusion. Its safe in here little one, Inside my pulsating existence. Where the moon once poured into the eyes of this old soul, The eyes of Your Captor...Your fellow Accuser... ...Your Sleepless Dreamer. There's no return to heavenly service for you, You reign now within my liquids, In every teardrop...every trickle of blood and semen, Through these hallways where the Spiders play, Away from Their battle for pride. You rent the last vacant room in my motel of godless truth, Its free! I have your feathers for all eternity, remember? They're now my quills, that sign your bill of comfort. 28 Oct 2004 (RSA)
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