Massacre at the slaughterhouse of love

Bereft of soft vision we circle each other -
cats ready to pounce, or eagles circling to snatch
prey from the safe ground.

I gave it willingly.
I hung my heart on the butcher hook and watched
it die a drawn out cold death swinging softly
in the room without windows.

Sex becomes revenge,
exacting metered punishment
lost in tangled limbs,
and all hope is pulled out from
the root.

Still we circle – - a holding
pattern of destruction awaiting
the shambles to tumble down
around us.

Massacre at the slaughterhouse of love

cheridan

Joined January 2008

  • Artist
    Notes
  • Artwork Comments 4

Artist's Description

I hung my heart on the butcher hook and watched
it die a drawn out cold death

Artwork Comments

  • photos40
  • hilarydougill
  • cheridan
  • LocoCow
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