Though I feel the air
from your voiced words
I can’t make out the sound.
Sounds as if something
purposeful has left your lips
and hasn’t yet gotten around.
The meaning of your essence
has taken on my weight.
Wings of essence dripped in honey,
my enemies and the fears
of returning home burden my pride.
Pride’s lust grueling musk
has shriveled up and died.
My endurance seems to have
been eroding, corroding
tripping over my sanity and imploding.
Rushing I glow with the moss
of the trees, following the air
of your voiced word’s breeze.
I wheeze twice, once for the lost
and a second time for my labor pains
the innocent child struggling within my womb
groaning your verses of pleasured rain.
I am swollen with promise
and my water has broke
short of a hand to hold
and an arm to stroke.
Here I lay waves crash
as ribbons of agony dance,
will this be my last chance
to harness your hurricane winds
the ones that your voice is found in?
I have developed scars upon mars
they vine up my sides
like backward slides,
snake under skin.
I can feel my dark tempter
probe for my sin,
pulling back layers
of grim slim slime
he scrapes back brown flesh
and finds where I cry.
Covered in thick volcanic ash
my soul lay wounded and bashed,
quicksand has given my Gothic life a hand
and assisted me to were my kin reside
this is the tomb in which I hide.
When you are lost, with a hidden heart the loudest cry seems like the tiniest whimper.