The awakening

more short pieces

‎"My round" she flared,
knocking bells,
the wooden chime
blistered her beckon call.
 "Booze, I shall wed thee"
 the swag of coins pinched
 worn timber feet,
 of sweat and malice.

my life my lie my pitted call
thy mouth thy tongue thy bitter squall

Teeth clenched like frittered dogs,
 lashed and leashed,
 to the howl,
to the moon,
to the hoards of ivory and ebony bones that jitter chords,
bled from bleach and starch,
ink and graphite,
lust and desire.
I wake
I wake!
with her at my feet.