I ate the prayer

Layer after layer, through teeth and truth.
Bones that trip and slip under.
Down into the briny wonder.
I ate the prayer.
Closed the eyes, for tomorrow will never see.
Bring that illusion back.
Roll back the time.
Sucking up event horizons and riverbed pebbles.
Milky chalk to wash the medicine down.
I ate the prayer.
Laid out on copper plates and paper trays.
Flung from hell and the devil’s lips.
That kissed and took me under.

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Consume

A burning white heat from above.
Did nothing to change your direction.
The day you came to tip the world over.
Feasting on the fragments of my life.
The little memories that get caught in your teeth.
Pick and poke through the gristle of my dreams.
What is here for you to digest?
Which part of me comes upon your silver platter?
I watch as the blood drools from your mouth so sweet.
Fresh from a kiss that left me breathless.
I held my tongue.
Which bled into my heart.
Feeling your fingers on my spine which pulled out each vertebrae.
Held aloft to see the spineless state I am in.
Heaped onto the floor in gesture of subservient decay.
So now pop me in formaldehyde, and watch me distantly up on the shelf.
Just glass and meat.
Eat raw parts of my heart that now struggle to beat.
Sweet delicious demise.

Foxy and Faux

Off the tracks and deep in the trees.
Charlie fell down to his knees.
It was getting dark and he was tired.
Lost in the forest of Bagley Byard.
His little feet could take no more.
That’s why he collapsed onto the floor.
But through the trees and through the tears.
He came upon one of his fears.
For there before him stood a fox.
His teeth protruding, like small sharp rocks.
He knew that foxes could be quite vicious.
Despite their fluffy tails, they were most capricious.
And could snap and tear at poor Charlie’s throat.
Releasing a scream and his final death note.
So Charlie stood, and stared and prayed.
Hoping the small fox, would just go away.

It was getting late and he was hungry,
But past the point of being angry.
It was tough to be a vegetarian fox.
While the others chewed on rabbit and ox.
Little red spent hours searching.
For wild asparagus and all things nourishing.
He’d wandered now beyond the borderline.
And though it sent a shiver down his spine.
To be so close to the human track.
His stomach pushed him on, not back.
And then he saw the young boy ahead.
He stopped and froze, and cocked his head.
And hoped he hadn’t seen his fur.
His freighted eyes, his tiny stir.
For little red hoped as his legs now were jelly.
To not end up, in that boy’s belly.