The faceless ones who rage

At my window

Cornering the rat and dog light

Sweeping the eyes under the carapace

You have found me at last

Sweet vagabond in my street of dreams

At the tree beneath my heart

An easy target

The vanquished witch

Talking in lilac time

Last chance to forge a path

With bitter regret

Nothing lasting

Only paid to speak through


Spreading stuttered shrapnel

All about us

The breath of insect anguish

In a hole

Surrounded by rancid poppies

The mantis

Selling favours

Here they come

Those brittle children

Their skinny grins held together

By glue and matchsticks

You know my name

Would not spare you

Glorious little dancer

In your whore’s apron

At mass

The fading angelus

Torn to pieces

Scattered with the bus tickets and the spittle

Upon us their crowns

Packed in suitcases

Friendless in the mornings

We come to meet their harvest

Let us fly backwards to infinity


Easy guest

Cut glutted succubus

Creeping in your fine analogical armour

You have counted our sins

You make the air burn in ecstatic waves

Of luminous gold and crimson

Until our fluids merge in bold kisses



~ by londonsurrealistgroup on April 22, 2007.

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