the cycle

from your bowered bier

you send the liquid stream of palpitating light

that enters my ears and soaks my mind

and rides my thoughts and binds my will

you crafted it carefully,

the inflaming essence of meaning

it hardens in my veins

and locks myself inside me

infused with your gradual suicide

and peppered with your acid tears

the taste is cold and ragged on my tongue

and bitter from your hellish themes

your hurts encased within the rigid branches

like an army of ants entombed in amber

burst forth as your soul whimpers

and your hopes evade your clutches

they crawl across my skin

each sticky foot dragging a furrow

each leg slicing my body hair

until I am naked and lined with their bloody tracks

you beckon the sky to assail me

splitting each soldier in two

each, half, a barbed treble hook

sinking into my skin, my muscle, my marrow

and then at once threads of air

like fine steel wires

pull those hooks in all directions

and I am shattered, disintegrated

leaking into the void

I am a cloud of awareness

with only one thought

I created you to create me

with me

you light the flame

that renders you



About Eric Kovach

Spiraling out of control~~~~~~o
This entry was posted in Poetry, Writing and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to the cycle

  1. shrinksarentcheap says:

    utterly beautiful. utterly wretched.

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