Death's a Friend

Delirious atrocities, delicous in its intricacies
emanating from focused candle meditation an
awning under which we fall to sleep, drawn swiftly
towards the spectre of adolescent love and
hidden jewels meant to remain so

in another world, he took a shell to his eat,
softly murmuring the lack of passion for his

art of war.

Fresh among newborn hags, frizzled and haggard
romping in arbors of wine grapes and
in amongst the angels, towards an
effect unknown to cause and weeping weeping to
never land and the broken promises Peter made, as
destined he was to only leave us angry with our siblings

while simultaneously holding out for true love's kiss.
Awakened by dreams of hands legs elbows
in between soft lips and tongues so
torn affronted with decision, we flee
initiated into unhappy cults of marriage
nary lying tiger soft at pit's bottom, seeming
gregarious in nature, eve, but hiding heart's true purpose

nearly eons later, we'll emerge, suckled by
enemies of what our truth stood for, reaching
amicably for friends, groping roughly in the dark,
realising no one is left but our own emptiness
by way of who we forced ourselves to love,
young and reckless and careless with each other.