cicada__outline_and_stippling__by_the_serpents_egg-d5jp4nnBehind your smile

There is always more fire

Than mercy


Your eyes are a sailor’s distress

A larvate sky poised with threat

Your heart is neither

Relic nor promissory

It is Venus in the vernacular

A sulfuric garden

That inculpates on entry


We shall not pass from existence

Driven off course by the oscillations

Of a punitive moon


You who are the genesis

Cannot be as easily denied

As an unfathomable creator

I exist through your violence

And it is by your hands

That I expect wholly to die