Not long till the wolves,
The after shall vultures circle,
Porcelain bone coated in dirt -
She was never pure,
May scavengers lick theirs fingers,
Of my every disgusting sin,
And fall dead to the poison,
Flowing deep within,
Be it my flesh leave a rotting taste,
Then may a corpse be left to decompose,
Toxicity levels quicken the process,
Leaving only honest truth.
Sky blue eyes look,
Heavenward as flesh melts away,
Coyotes prowling teeth piercing,
Like sharpened knives of lustful nights,
In hovering motion,
A soul be chained by spiteful wickedness,
An eternity with memory,
With the swinging of a pendulum.
Resistant will not strong enough,
To then lead an existence suspended,
Violently swaying between her and her,
(For years stripped and re-layered under this crown)
Awaiting the final undressing.
Each drawn circle in the sand,
A wave will wash away,
A strike, a white fence, addition,
One last perfect effort
- To t/make me home/beautiful -
