No-one survives such an attack

and we all stood like monuments

baring the nails in her back

Still moving sinews

in a graceful impression of life

shyly the arms, shyly the breasts

fold fear die



Ten fingers driven

through the heart, through the core

as I stare into those strange, magnetic eyes

and wonder: (for you me)

are there demons there?



I knew it all the time. The misanthropes

were right to crucify themselves in the

need of a saviour. Still moving sinews

struggle fearsome with a lifeline forlorn,

caught in the nest of the impending dark fate.



Semi-worlds, lifetight lodges

where faces stiffen,

plagued with the frost of disease

Our capsules barely meet



The worms of disorder

like living black numbers

that drip from her pergament skin

Joined in sweet fury

to anoint the decay

fragile and reddened in lifelost array