Love is Mad, Mad is Murder
She slithered into my head unnoticed,
seemingly through cracks and creases
left abandoned, forgotten works of
ancient builders. The clever Devils left
me exposed to this wanted intrusion.
I loved her little body, bendy and fair
and menacing in its sensual posture.
Time twisted and snuck past my defenses,
when I finally noticed, it stood sneering
in the distance, taunting my failed perception.
She had me buried deep within her plans,
drowned to the bottom but sinking still,
further into a collage of the failed wills
of all the others. They too fell victim to the
same cryptic grinding hips and serpent speech.
Down beneath the bottom of everything
I see the cracks and creases of her grimaced heart,
freedom may be possible, but not like this
for I too am toxic and spewing evil intent
laced with lust. We will sift the innocent forever.
Twenty five years I've eaten her fruit, tasted
of her nourishing decay. Life flourishes when
roots reach down to death. But she has nothing
left to offer, she has fed all the fruit she can.
Find another. Maybe this one will last forever.
Dig the garden, six feet down.
You'll find it's full of love.