BEAUTIFUL RUNE

As sun and dove devour but and moon If we stay on this road we'll find religion soon I plant the seeds that flower in veins And destine down blacklit bathroom drains Of sacraments and ends Dead in a ditch, death is the friend buried beneath drugged skin My stand became a lean verse cigarette machine Could cocaine candy console crippled children cavitied? The tears of flesh death burns Now a mis-centered mantelpiece in a porcelain urn But what words will witches sing While warlocks pluck away all day at their broken heartstring I took some gun from some sick hand Said “Count to ten” Oh, “One, Two, Three...” “Fuck it, I don't care.” And all of us widowed wives Discussing dimensions in dream homes we hide And it's not fair These affairs are all I had, its sad I had to lie Forget it I get it I guess its true I'd make a boring bride