the dead do not speak

A amazing young Poet.

eat more, sleep less, dream plenty


A carcass trussed empty and gutted
You reek of decaying flesh
An unholy desecration
A thick miasma of nothingness

Olive dark eyes
Entrap me in sacrificial slaughter
And you laid my body to rest
On Hell’s ruby gate

The oracle, the pilgrimage, the gods
Could never be your salvation
As I slit your torso
From your throat to your pelvis

I wish to twine your marble bones in a knot
Drown you in blue-silver mountain lakes
And dip your forked tongue in acid

For though clear orbs of death
Waltz above my head
I will still thirst for
That one clean incision
In your sallow, obliterating soul

-a.c., “the carcass”  

// this one’s for you, you and you (if i can’t bring myself to tell you in the face, at least let me have my moment in poetry)

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