he wrenches the door open
and your head snaps too,
this house is your coffin
elsinore is your womb,
else we four are a tomb.
your blood it smells sweet
to the carrion birds,
the boy knows this and waits,
his patience is great, though
relations are fate.
but the clock ticks incessant
and the little boy's bored,
his mother is eaten
time has taken his life,
rhymes have shaken this knife.
2 comments:
hey, now you're writing all the dark creepy stuff and i'm writing all the light and reassured stuff.
if i accidentally transferred my brain into your head, sorry, i can take it back if you want
oh but this is a good poem anyway, and the last two lines of the first stanza remind me of the way Dustin uses language in "The Earth Will Shake," which I was just listening to, and also, the "Come All You Weary" video is on absolutepunk.net now
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