In grey mists I see,
a V of black swans...

Performing in symphonies of mutilation,
fingertips of sunlight murmured salvation...

Lick off all the leeches
drowning in diluted skin...

Sundown flares in fragmented smiles,
masterpieces broken, though not unspoken...

The stars reflected from the dirty fingernails,
as one drags his feet across the tundra...

In the summer shades of Eden,
waning like a crescent moon...

I pondered,
over dearest Abigail...

Your passion,
this living without a fashion...

Heart of the dummy,
believer...

***Like Hell if know what this poem is about. Life...
He walks, fossilized...

As the cardinals slit their wrists,
I inhale eulogies from every kiss...

Voice anonymous and unheard,
tongues twisted and slurred...