Slander’s scourge or the withering brine,
My back is voluble and proud
With festering wounds, defiant, loud
With green and purple mouths that speak
Heart’s blood and the good red reek.
This body gouged with cunning’s tooth
Shrouds a poet whipped for truth.
The poisonous tones of liars’ tongues
That soil the air and sear my lungs,
Purring smooth as milk, presage
Scarlet slashes on a page,
Much like the dulcet tones obscene
That hemorrhage from your tune machine.
All my music issues fresh
From my agéd, tortured flesh
To scar the mind with fingerprints
Blood red through the second rinse,
For fear and pity’s strangled cry
Stains my soul like smoke the sky
6/4/2014
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