poem from muse candy

*
its seems your lingering trace
now makes the fickle muse,
who left me in a barren place,
for weeks of years and years of weeks,
approach for what she excavates.
she bleeds my verse so she can have,
a sex slave salve to tweak her cheeks.

dark and darkness are her mirrors,
she reflects the sun at night.
mirrors mother daughter mother,
caught within beguiling lights,
mirrors mirrors of delight.

we cleave so tight beneath her sight,
like bullets in a smoking gun.
she loads me to your knees on fire,
inflames the light’s desire for night,
until we’re wrung through mirrors hung
with vexing sexy razor wire,
until your verse from her from me,
is flung out like a pistol’s tongue.

your verse her verse now fully free,
secures the children’s future house,
destroys the loveless golden gyre.
and from your muse’s mouth i bring
a coupled bed to breed our blood,
and to conspire poet’s schemes,
and baptize with cream fire.

my red mouth is your mother muse,
i use with tender sex abuse,
that forces silver dire verse
to kiss your kin convert the worst,
and steal you from the wedding hearse.