No-one survives such an attack
and we all stood like monuments
baring the nails in her back
Still moving sinews
in a graceful impression of life
shyly the arms, shyly the breasts
fold fear die
Ten fingers driven
through the heart, through the core
as I stare into those strange, magnetic eyes
and wonder: (for you/me)
are there demons there?
I knew it all the time. The misanthropes
were right to crucify themselves in the
need of a saviour. Still moving sinews
struggle fearsome with a lifeline forlorn,
caught in the nest of the impending dark fate.
Semi-worlds, lifetight lodges
where faces stiffen,
plagued with the frost of disease
Our capsules barely meet
