Sugar Blood Tongue
Bloody, purple red bullets pulpy in a whale’s belly
ooze disease on creation’s shell.
Love is breached; burdened and beached on sand that is quicker
than my thick heart’s broken smile that sometimes tricks to be sicker
than yours.
Saturated and climbing like a slug vine, stately severity licks and pricks inside it’s own waves of passion pounded and paved from promises; from hunger so deep; so drawn like courtly butter.
Princely portraits will offer to paint themselves and penny wise musicians do dis and miss all the painfully private places you’ve kissed, hit and lit.
I cynically circle your origin; I orbit your originality in silent, gritted orchestrated observation as though you might taste a bit like purple steel.
Chinese cherries taste like German geraniums when your guitar swells and sweats stories told in sugar blood tongue.
I do search you.
I am of your offensive affair and you grin as I grope through the green, treading heavily on razor sharp world campaigns run by insipid speaker placements.
There is no such thing as a beautiful world.
You know I know about your birth;
it has incensed my flirtation; my singular listen like burnt sulfur matches scented
and stripped bitter when tapped to the tip of my sugar tongue bloodied and bitten.
I am nonsensical, you’ve said.
You ridicule my brown, round face into ridiculous and riddle me into uniforms of oddity.
Ask away.
Today always displays what you cannot say.
I ask for what I get.
You stand laughing in a belly clutch beneath my doubled jointed toe touch.
You gaze as though you’ve never seen such mastery.
You sniff the perfume of my red absolute atmosphere and spray your acoustic blue saliva as though you’ll soon understand my why.
I am these bloody bullet stains trapped in benign blankets
covering winsome wounds wound in and through me and you, us two.
These bloodied bullet stains that take me away are splinters of your beloved breath licking slowly, wetly on my jealousies of that woman; that girl.
You may stay this way I’ve heard; inside the black velvet tingling that explains the way you may remain; they say you may stay.
I’ve been taken by a bloody, bloody bullet defended into the blissful blinks that were my timid timing.
I need you.
I am in need of a soldier.
I am as desperate for defense as that delicate, porcelain love of yours…I could be that delicate if that is what it might take to finally be loved.
I couldn’t.
I prefer to set myself to the chewing of my own sugar blood tongue before I allow-
-I allow
I allow-
I prefer the taste of my own sugar blood tongue before I enjoy the sight-
-the sight
the sight-
You were never mine.
You were never mine.
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