tristitia

A heart adorned in flowers, although dying
still yearns for sublimity.
est vitae essentia
In the feathers of the blackened corvidae
which will, too
fall to the earth,
                               graciously
and turn to decay.

 

Departure


 

dsc_0606

Image: A behind the scenes shot by my dear friend Joyce, from a recent photoshoot with Sydney photographer, Loren Bousfield (Obscur Photography). Project to be unveiled soon.

Since I cannot fathom words as of late…

 

Milk


Milk

As I lay here
Cradling you in my weary ribs
A saccharine fever
Like the black spiders poison
Ripe, garnet red.

 Decaying limbs intertwined
A bodiless affection
Every sweet follicle of your being
I absorb – inebriating.

 An elegant crux entanglement,
Of swollen fibres
The amiable death of emptiness,
Held deep,
a precious blood jewel.

I drink your words,
I capture every thought in your eyes with mine,
Longing for your body to swallow me whole,
To drown me in your milk-wine blood.

Light


The fall of night was endless
upon the cracked winter sea.
She had swallowed 
every star that ever was.
The rain began to roar -
tearing through the fibres
 of treasured wounds.

With hands peeled open,
cold blooded and gushing,
a diamond falls from the storm.
You are my light.


The Black Palisades


 

This flesh and bone asylum,
paralysing and hollow -
teeming with conjecture
upon cold, deaf ears.
Closed silver eyelids,
pupils gazed upon the walls 
of an odious skull.
The carvings upon the palisades
violently sombre.
Ardency in locked glass caskets,
the ripe buds of flowers laid to rest.
They rot and weep -
like a greiving young widows 
devoid black veins.