Two years ago
I embraced its fangs,
the shred and torment of its teeth,
the passionate pollution of it.
The carnivore ekes out it’s living
from the silver tears of youthful hearts
but it bows to one greater,
the cunning of laced skepticism,
and carnivorous letters read eagerly in dim light.
For I have a spliced heart,
and through its trenches trails barbed wire,
the thorns of disregarded wisdom.
It lurks in tangled shadows,
shifting shapes with eternal joy.
Still, we all buy a ticket
to drench ourselves in the honeyed sensulality of the carnivore.
Thank you as always my little ink angels for reading and sharing your thoughts with me in the comments below.
” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”