Venus Blue
Creeping like frost
As slow as grave moss
Like drowning in dry oceans of bone dust
I taste the wreckage of crumbling faces
I know the pale thing in the darkest of places
I remember blood from the thighs of the mother
As everything is eaten by another
How much more must we bleed her
I cut their throats while they slept
I wept
I peel back my skull for you
Yes I do
Slow desolation like a funeral procession
The lovely one screams like she's caught between stations
I eat the razor, a mouthful of God's flesh
Sweating this blackness,
I am shitting this cold death
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