I Took A Battle Axe To The Night

My eyes tell dark tales

And strain to lie

Atomic blood micro ribbons

Scarring each egg moon white

Crawling out the trembling rim

A teardrop processional

Exiled from thinned bedspread skin

Traumatic holdovers

Bandaged in sombre ash

Shooting panicked cannonball fires

Through flayed nerve walls

Where dreams hang hypnotic

Just like pinpricked phantom limbs

Before midnight’s fanged syringe

And tasked charcoal hijacking

Erase dusk’s scorned fire pyre painting

To erupt my milk flesh canvas

Into glowering sackcloth sky

And God pours out succour’s slumbering grace

Through dust bowl ghosts

Filtering my dreamscape

With sepia sand pilgrims

Freed from the toppled hourglass

And dark’s steer carcass horns

Point proud to the North Star

To pierce the heart of the drowsy sun

But I will savour time’s mutilated minute’s last stand

And sleep on a bed curtained by feathery vision

When the creep crawling night

Has tired, faded

And gone.