As the Dagger Begins to Sink (day 772)

Don’t throw away my misery as if I’ve been kindly handling your manner for years
Respect it and covet it like a well worn lawn mower, hardly spewing black smoke
And dance around it with spears and face paint while chanting god-speek
Because if you, for one single moment, think the moon will set before the deed is done
Then you’re sadly mistaken, sadly believing in mystics and chimera
Barking at the moon fully loaded for bear with a hand down your trousers
While the children of the night roll around at your feet, stretching for answers
Into the pale night skies pockmark’d rivers of darkness
Don’t let me be, standing here against the cold wall of ancient growth alone and heavily breathing
Listening for forgotten sounds to ring alert, echoing in the night
A calming sensation growing up through my spine as anxious boils over into my thoughts
When the dagger begins to sink into it’s last goodbye

Bowels (day 547)

Settling into the bloody seat filled with boils and scabs
The leaches all gathered around, squishing about
“Accompany me, my little minions” says the goblin
Leading the insolent forward into the future
Slime lines followed the congregation as they went
Crawling from side to side about the blood
Not a legible word released from their bowels
“And now we shall all jump!”
And then that was the end
Splash