Saturday, February 7, 2015

Under the Midnight Tree



The midnight trees pregnant,
Swollen up with the moonlight
Branches trouncing the air
Around us, above us

The corpse of a new day inside them,
filth reduced to anecdote,
rain condensed in the rotten leaves

Unborn rabid lies
kept inside for decades,
corrupting the plant from its soil

Desdemona walked her funeral dress
between the souls trapped in the forest,
caressed their apparent carcass,

Vanity filled with dusk´s
black sperm
Mandragora crops, harvested by the fool,
the blind and the crippled death

The wind, a cloud of laughter,
each blow a river of scented sin
running through her cheeks,
makeup spilling at ease

Clowns ruling my sleep,
taking me where I never dream.
Cliffed hanging hopes,
neverending ropes tearing my skin,
blistering memories of you

A bubble of illusion,
crumping up and down,
My wig a handful of threads,
my soul a needle piercing invisible cobwebs

My future swallowed slowly by the
eyeless giant spider,
patiently waiting for my final ruin

Under the midnight tree,
over the endless ground

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