DEVIATION
Deviation
In the ethereal cold
The violet fog burns
Into the heart of the deviant.
The ribbon slithers
Around her every bone
Painting roses like a disease
From the retro aspect
Of life darkening the night
And the nonexistent glow of the moon.
And the hoof beats stop
To remind us that he had his way with her.
Satyriasis was her name,
Desire was her game
Lost in the psychobabble
Unsold by the falling of stars.
By morning, leaves are covered
In drops of water from the dew.
Grass bent where the body lay
Acting as a paintbrush
On this scenic route in a forest
Where no one would find her.
She may be missing
But her blood still remains,
Lovesick for the thorn
9-26-2008
In the ethereal cold
The violet fog burns
Into the heart of the deviant.
The ribbon slithers
Around her every bone
Painting roses like a disease
From the retro aspect
Of life darkening the night
And the nonexistent glow of the moon.
And the hoof beats stop
To remind us that he had his way with her.
Satyriasis was her name,
Desire was her game
Lost in the psychobabble
Unsold by the falling of stars.
By morning, leaves are covered
In drops of water from the dew.
Grass bent where the body lay
Acting as a paintbrush
On this scenic route in a forest
Where no one would find her.
She may be missing
But her blood still remains,
Lovesick for the thorn
9-26-2008