gripping tar slipping shards a blade below the stucco
breathing parts boiled dark from a brew tobacco
inward curls fingers seasoned sticky with smoke
raucous shore line deepened by grasping my throat

heaven knows that angels aren't composed of gray
but the fade of want endless drifts by hurricane
wings silent hovering on splintered homestead
septimal gems eye prayers answered with death
each pair a promise to those of faith unbent
the last a beacon leading fog-lost to debt-worn graves
my feet hover as firm hands purple my malaise

round
round
we lilt level with ground

tilted
jilted
my ange' soothe mewling sound

somber
gentle
my soul flitters half down

whilst
wing
beats
off vital pulses around

and
about
my neck

for that
tar
cloys
my sense

a child that wants horrors I had noticed
but never worried that shades hungered
after lungs were chewed to shreds
that passing moment of strangers enjoying
the third half broken dark and chewing
long and joyous and stretched to touch my scent

let that seraphim douse every whim in a bath I can't remember
her lies came with my cries of salvation bought in shame's anger
so let heaven's resuscitation come on lips wide and patient
and through a ghost's kiss give that gift of life smothering gray hurt