Nightmare Garden Redux I

I Milo (Bedlam)

I’m become him.

Mine schooling

and work certified liar.

I’d kept it torrid.

Some hopeful

heart of stone.

Fates what they are.

 

Might be watch

what you say.

Better inside the eye.

Winter wind through

window blow

she needful things.

 

Thy will be done.

The casual eye

to the butcher.

The black door is mine. © 

 

Flock

The Maiden know me.

she talk at me

your ever after

latter hour culture.

Tantamount demimonde.

 

Throng of them

I fade them all.

Think me all the

more well.

It aint spoke, you

want used to me.

 

What devil her

she need broke of it.

Her mood is thick.

Straight up third 

eye blind.

 

These hours streets alive.

Is enlightened bird.

Flock of raven skinned

thoroughbred.

Mutual ardor bit of rare. G © 

 

Year Of Our Lords

She got me fucked up just now.

It take once this once.

She succubus.

A flatterer and gypsy.

To grip of them

I’m tastemaker.

Reverence is currency

in the houses.

Drive her over mad.

The circuitry of

western territory

social register.

 

Wend about the houses.

Yonder wind tea 

light candles.

Prone to grandeur, love.

My disparate is

habit form 

I trouble you.

G © 

 

Windswept

In the back and forth

was she’d part hers legs.

There’s vigor

in the darkness.

I’m but witness the

cool your distress.

Was she’d part hers legs.

Mine is to make immortal.

 

The back and forth.

Familiar as it was.

Wind off the dunes.

Her feel of dread that

should we have sex.

In the back and forth

and the windswept. G© 

 

I Milo II

They feted band of spinners.

Set in the gardens.

Exotic bird circle branches.

Say I’m corruptor.

Each residence

a garden and fountain.

I’d ease up but time is short.

She blessed open mind.

Dream it inevitable.

 

I Milo one garden

to the other.

Strut about strange bird.

Dressed as dressed.

Inhumanity these years

fill of it.

Her mercy is blood.

Bit of need and feeling.

Long as need be common.

I Journal it.  G © 

 

Carrion

Blood in hers wine.

Blood on hers dress.

I don’t kiss her last

I was with her.

Hers counsel resilience

Was top dollar.

 

Garden whim suit him.

Regard them carrion.

Summers gone and

latter months darker.

Darker, love.

 

They’ve coupled up.

The romantic at

yours window.

Yours skin caramelized

by chance that summer 
set aside.

Aint been love.

Aint been.

Lest we forget

what for sex, love? G©