Talons

Such lionized hands to hold those altars,

to mold those dove-white gelatin doctrines:

they could hook a loose, frenzied eye

thrust its vision up to oblivion,

blending senses into shapeless beings

where burst vessels slither like koi

into a pooling bloodlust. This is peace.

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Published by

Jenna

Hello, fellow bundle of nerves and flesh! I'm a simple little being who's half-poet, half-scientist, and all gelatinous chaos. Sort of like an illogical marshmallow. If you'd like to learn more, please seek out the "First Impressions" page. Thank you for the visit, bundle friend.

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