Scratching at frost

by Poet on the Piano   Dec 28, 2010


You flay my muted mouth
coiling around with disgrace,
half responsive and babbling
I sorely accumulate a refute.

My elder orb shall be spared
under your reckless surveillance
and the soul of bitten nights
will chill your satanic ire.

I heedlessly graze your molten neck
until my promptings and paintings
are forever infused in cold blood.

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