Oh God, the Blood

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So delicate
This skin we pull
So tight to hide ourselves within
It isn’t much
For us to cut and drain
With but a simple touch

So delicate
These sentiments
So fragile in their infancy
It isn’t hard
To break apart the trappings
Of a weakened heart

The smell of smoke
Nicotine ghosts
In structures emptied long ago
On the better side of the worst side of town

At last she spoke
“I made my choice”
A whisper quivered like her voice
While traffic passed but it never heard the sound

Oh God, the blood
The stains are deep
A river cut
Into the streets
Oh God, the blood
My hands, unclean
Have testified
Of things we’ve seen

Oh God
The massacres we make
Of ones we crave
With sharp mistakes
Oh God, the blood
Is crimson red
From tender love
We left for dead

They Wait

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From whence these apparitions came
I cannot say; I dare not think
Alight upon my window frame
In form, as birds, yet not the same

With talons curved and plumage preened
Observers, they appear to be
Such beady eyes may scarcely tell
but I will not be fooled so well

“I know your kind, oh wicked beast
In patience perched upon my sill
Expecting here to find some feast
But I am fine, and hardly ill

Away from here; away! Away!
No feasting will be done today
Remove and leave no trace behind
For nothing here is dead nor dying”

Yet, still this blackened gathering
Has marred my views and jarred my plans
As nightmares, somehow given wings
And so I sat for their demands

I spake into the lot of them
“What evil plot or tainted wind
Has brought you here to mock my rest?
If you have tongues, at least confess”

At length no answer they prescribed
And did but stare with ebon eyes
Yet, not at mine–below perhaps
Into my core and through my depths

A sudden jolt–a thought–a start
Impaled my wonderings with fear
These foul ghosts await my heart
The weakened beat of which they hear

From far below, the suffering
Of this, my spirit’s offering
A broken heart and bleeding love
Has called them out and up above

A netherworld I dare not name
Cacophonous, unholy lands
Had heard the deepness of my pain
And traveled here to see my end

But not my body do they crave
No flesh nor blood they hope to have
They hunger for my sanity
And this poor heart that beats in me

The brokenness within my chest
These demons seek to drink its blood
Of what I’ve bled, to take the rest
And wrest me of my dying love

So long upon my window’s base
With empty eyes and solemn face
They wait, despair for me to take
They wait to see if I will wake

And maybe they are justified
The scent of wounded heart to seek
Although my frame retains its pride
The warmth inside is far too weak

As I recline against the bed
They stand there on my window ledge
Unspeaking, but I feel their gaze
They wait to see if I will wake