still clings
Is my blood deemed unworthy
Then spill it not on marble altars
Come to me by hearse
Raven-haired, bun, and halter
Anoint me in its crimson
Ordain me in sin
Break my spirit open
And let yourself in
I could not fault you
…stranger fruit I’ve enticed
Like babes in the manger
And wicked winks to the wise
Spied by the grim
For I was born in antiquity
Penned in a trilogy
The oracle’s poetry
And the sage’s sweet hymns
Such to eternity
Roads not taken, our destiny
Forward’s your plight
In an hour that’s slim
For I live in a paradox
A prison of pain
Loose are my pickings
Yet fruitful, my refrain
For timing’s implicit
Just as your sweet visit
By the darkest hour
With the greatest claim
So, alight your hearse
Know things can’t get worse
Hide yourself in your hunger
And the poison you bring
And die on my altar
Pitch black hair — in your halter
And bury my sins
As insults to cling
