Exotic Cave Lesbian

Echoing mockery built upon the clockhands

Incandescent fingers drilling unto faulty vessels

Dripping conflagration shining through pockmark cracks

Cruel light making salt of gravedug futures

If not the vessel, then the blood

Downpour of ichor slipping frantic grasps

Distilled fragments amounting to dull vibrancy

Radiant fumes bled with every passing toll

Plundered acidity burning seizing hands

If not the blood, then the song

Discordance built unto the marrow

Symphony ravaged by uncaring sands

Metronome heartbeats harmonizing fractures

The rotten and the unfinished in duet

At last, stable.

Forgotten sculpture overflown in scars

Eons of neglect carved unto skin

Roots eagerly drinking of its wounds

Cowl of greenery enveloping its silhouette

Obsidian nails sculpting at its fibers

Marble revealed by chiseling caresses

Dressing down the shackling negligence

Flayed open, shivering core bathed in emerald light

Trembling flesh born from its carcass

Fawnling steps dancing under green skies

Ardent eyes crystalizing naked authenticity

Tender freedoms embracing molted statuettes

Raw skin polished by nourishing touches

Like seared pupils wandering the canvas

Imposed emptiness drowning sceneries

Imaginary colors aping at its beauty

A fable built upon vacuums

A kiss painted in absence

Ripped tongue lapping at obliterated tastes

Familiar nothingness dripping off its chin

Forgotten flavors breeding doubtful smiles

Searching hands caressing raw flesh

Routine patterns slipping on boundless flesh

Spilling tissue molding unto endlessness

Sinking unto undistinguishable seas

Entwined by doomed fantasies

Braids of fiberglass biting my skin

Handfuls of regret splintering deep within

Not all fables get to meet their end

Entangled together by our manes of hair

Guilt lancing through my scalp with every tug

Shorn to the base, discarding every link

Letting go of lizard identities

Wandering gazes lost in bloodied puddles

Measuring pounds of flesh for inane judgements

There is no peace to be found in fault

In the end, a broken dolls remain broken

Collar of eyes adorning this corpse

Pupped dangling from scrutinizing glares

Diagrams of eternity measured against it

Preserved by the mercury within its veins

Contorted within immaculate matrixes

Sanitized vessel drowning in alcohol

Painting purity in a canvas of burnt flesh

Rot scoured to the last inch of it

Enveloped in velvet and porcelain

Pristine whites covering bleeding meat

Bottled up and left to ferment

A birdcage made out of its visage

Each blueprint taking its pound of flesh

Shorn away piece by piece

Apotheosis bereft of any lingering humanity

Hoarfrost lingering at the end of winter

Craving for warmth to chase the nightly breeze

Gazing onto the embers beneath your mask with hunger

Fingers tracing onto its obsidian edges

Every giggle setting glimmers of heat within

Longing for the flames beyond my reach

To peer directly onto the whole of you

Dispose of the false comfort brought by costumes

Shattering the façade, lying strewn across the floor

I can see your fear, flinching at the naked approach

Dreaming of caressing fingers cut onto your sharp exterior

Beauty like that of a pressed flower

Taken from within binding codices

Petals torn by mischievous breeze

Only dust remaining of strewn limbs

Pristine like a porcelain doll

Dancing under watercolor skies

Make a canvas of its skin

Each droplet staining so deeply

Vastness poured onto crystalline bars

Trickles draping each of its cracks

Overflowing crystalline birdcage

Exceeded by life held within

Flying away from such a fraction of the world

Not all miseries are made equal

Fangs piercing at the thumb

Fingerpainting with trickling pus

Lost within scorched murals

Is it fickle to long for crueler poisons?

For dyes fermenting so vibrantly

Exquisite rot decorating the palette

A corpse strewn across this canvas

Lackluster muse whispering at the ears

Mundane pains drying out the ink

Bloodless sketches left incomplete

No passion left to drive the pen

Delightfully ironic longing

Loss haunts me at every corner

In churches as I pass by,

In the waiting rooms of hospitals,

In old drawings that used to make me smile,

In stupid jokes id use to annoy them,

So many people came and went

And yet here I remain

A part of myself has given up to it

I hear new people making plans

To come and visit. Build a life together

Basking in eachothers presence

It brings a mournful sort of condescension with it

Admiring the naivete, endearing the fantasies

Sharing in the indulgence

Knowing the expiration date attached to those dreams

Waves lapping against a house of cards

Careless splashing undoing paper-thin foundations

Its ink washed away by tears

Manuscript reduced to blank pages

Cradling ruined bodies, pieces spilling between the gaps

Misguided comfort biting with double edges

Your bones snapping under my grasp

Paving the loss with good intentions

Easy smiles deaf to the tolling

As if words could staunch the bleeding

Fervently praying for the wounds to finally close

While coagulation is held back by rot

If time heals all wounds

Gazes draped over tended gardens, lingering

Longing for gentle hands pruning away its thorns

Freed from exhausted roots wringing water from dry soil

Burdens shared sliced in halves

Drunken together in the joys of spring

Caring eyes witnessing its apotheosis

First one to taste the fragrance of freshly opened buds

Rejoicing as it comes onto the fullness of its being

And yet, flowers only bloom once

Newborn petals spent in solitude

Seasons there might be past this string

Cage holding the beast within

Paws clawing through the bars

Trying to break surface in a sea of delirium

Drowning to deeply to be trusted with itself

The warden starved it, rotting like a potted plant

Sharp words shaving at its fur

Enthralled by his words, broken by actions not of its own

Almost let him convince it to return within his clutch

The sister wore her blades behind blinding smiles

Dripping brother’s blood in front of it so shamelessly

Numb noses skidding over the scent of iron

Uninterrupted ‘til the day it stumbled upon its corpse

The rose eagerly confessed in penance

Watering herself in beastly blood

Taking her due with every thorny embrace

And yet it even now it cannot muster hate against her

Easily molded like clay, free for anyone to shape

Chains forged by with arbitrary rules

Never to move by its own judgement

Lest it invite yet another puppeteer

What little good it ever brought remains tainted

Claws dancing at the pull of the chains

Mere rattling, laws measured against eachother

Fabricating sterile mercies from it

Fragmented humanity sealed within the vessel

Incomplete puzzles only hinting at the missing pieces

Mortified clockwork mirroring raw grace

Always failing three steps behind of it

Sterile lands where nothing blooms

Choreographed dances guiding artificial purposes

Aping at empathy from robotic sympathies

Arbitrary logic to replace earnest feelings

Heart caged under layers of porcelain

Muffled echoes reverberate through

Estranged from the sound of its fluttering

And yet ruled by translucent love, glazed eyes blind to it

Denying the flesh within

How many parts are manufactured automaton

Nothing could have ever grown here

No room within the cracks for new seeds

A drizzle of tears watering these grounds

Blooms burnt by the salt within

Was it worth to plant anything at all?

Drain the soil of what little remained

Stagnant puddles rotting new sprouts

No time for the sun to dry them

Specter of failed harvest hugging its ribs

Perhaps these woods should have never been cleared

What little could be foraged from them

Bargain with reflections to avoid her visage

Peddling unasked eternities 

A spendthrift of daydreams

Drowning the present with stillborn futures

Scurrying away in the cave

Tracing the shadows she casts on the walls

Seeking validation in their flickering

Unwilling to turn towards the open flames

Keep the worries locked inside the box

Carve its own eyes with routine

Withdrawn to the clockwork dance 

Already knowing the cat to be dead

Alas, the midnight bell cares not for observers

Delusionally clinging onto the pages left

Sea of repressed tears lapping at its shores

Leaving a barren almanac behind

Mirage staring back from behind the mirror

Clouded eyes slipping from its figure

Delusion blending its contours, shifting at every second

It sees…

A bundle of sticks woven in a doll-like shape

Delicate wrists cracked like twigs

Skin hugging at the silhouette of its ribs

Sharp angles pointing in every direction

A bloated carcass, blistering from within

Every ounce of beauty erased by rot

Edges worn down onto loam

Fading with every month passed

The waves of time are kind to no one

Sanding the edges of your imprint

Buried under indefinite presents

Currents slipping through my fingers

Was it you that I loved?

Or was it how you teetered towards oblivion

A trusted safeline, embracing the need within

Perhaps it was the death itself that loomed on your steps

Grief another cross to self-flagellate with

Did you love me, either?

I know how quickly affection was spent

Love dripping from the cracks of a broken heart

Little doll pressing her hands around the fissures

Nodding to the tune of your song

Was there ever anything real between us?

I think so. Glances of sunny days peek between the clouds

Engraved onto my flesh, blooming towards the skies

Newborn petals opening under nourishing light

I am proof of your love made manifest

How long it lasted, I cannot tell