diedlos

A poem about talking and listening.

Hush my voice, quaint friend,
Hush these embers hissing from my throat
And quench them with your bile straight
Into this mouth of mine,
Before the flames eat through my neck
And prick your scaley dragon eyes
So open your mouth and swallow mine
And find yourself another sign
To gawk and bawd upon by day
Till night sweeps up your dreams away
You cough, you retch, yet still something
Speaks, a grating octave in your ear
Rebounding off a toilet bowl
Somewhere, you know not where
How one receptacle of fluid hangs
in relation to another
save for the smoke signals you read
in the clouds I cast
for still something speaks
still I am speaking
for you to quench this flaming thirst of mine
feed to me the death of fire
in the death of body stained
by the rot of your gaze so strained
upon the worms within my brain.