Mephisto exists within my own heart

In the black-veined passages that

Disguise their means, in the rib-stashed

Furnace replete with incinerated flowers

I consume all who would trespass on this

Seething womb through the appropriation

Of false intimacies, all who bare the graceless

Articulations of the Sybarite, I will not not

Lie  in your bed as upon a sacrificial altar

And you will know neither my flesh nor

My vision


Do not place your hands, as if in clay, upon my

Soul. I will not be rendered misshapen under

Your artistic vanity. I have no use of your

Dead Sea dreams, the saline of a love-struck

Narcissus lost in his reflection as it rests

Upon my eyes, unseen. I have no use of

Smiles, silk-spun, that would ensnare,

Of words double-sided that adhere lips

And tongue to back-alley promises that

Can not endure the light of morning


Only one whose intentions are sincere could

Unlock these wrought-iron doors and find heaven


This is a bit older actually but its hard to write when you can’t see that well


12 thoughts on “Furnace

    1. I think you read the other post now maybe you know why. The eye doctor basically said because of my lazy eye I am straining my eyes forcing them to focus intensely and they are really fatigued. Even magnified I am still having trouble seeing I can’t focus my eyes

  1. ah if only we would hold out for those whose intentions are pure…or were better at actually discerning who those people are instead of falling for the smiles…

  2. A fabulous declaration, great use of language. The wrought-iron gate at heaven’s door, now there’s a chastity belt that whose release one must certainly earn!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s