Saturday, April 18, 2015

Vacation with Mother O.

You came of your own free will, the cattle call
A place to soothe phantom depressions
Gathering shells to fend off every day, imagining this is perfect reality
She understands more than you will ever know
About desperation and desire
Lulling the pigs to sleep with deft fingers 
Then pulling them into deaths cradle
The emotion is there, don't doubt that
Pushing and pulling, lunar commands not barked but whispered
And when the thin blue veil washes over her prey, her lovers
Her belly still aches with a vastness that can never be filled
Scream if you can, spurn her advances
One thing is for certain
It's time to feed the crabs