If you were praying for an early eclipse,
to fold the greed within the spectrum-shift,
the gaping misfortune in the drain of disdain,
white out the night if we reach home again.
The hawker indicates magnificate fear,
too cold for comfort in the hate-mosphere,
I knelt down beside her melting heart and hell,
too drunken to see where her faithlessness fell.
The mixed in beliefs again,
betrayal in heat again.
A need to release in the comfort
of sideway shadows
all playing at cutting the creeps in two.
She is only the tenth to remind me,
a deafening slant on the desperate man,
carousel movements in anti-terrain,
blow holes between the legs of her shame.
The murderer pa**ed as a magus,
hiding for fear that his guild disappears,
alone is the butcher in surrogate stains,
breaking his back to reach home again.