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cirque de la nuit

The inky journey of a modern day Troubador

Month

November 2016

Love, part deux

If you can’t map the scars on my skin

And create a masterpiece.

If you don’t hear a Symphony,

With crashing symbols,

When my heart breaks

Then you have icicles in your veins

And my love cannot be yours.

Crowns

The hacking
Coughing
Death rattle of regression
Is incredibly loud

It feels the slight prickle
Of hairs
On the back of
Its goose pimpled neck

And senses the cold
Touch of curved steel

The reapers blade

It must have its last
Sickly grasp
of the scepter,
Bending neck
With fear and blame

Even the beasts of the field
Sense their own demise.

Have your last cackling
Laugh
Before
We crack the crown

And take what’s always
been ours

Love

They hold me so carefully
and caress me tender

they salve my wounds
with delicate touches
and stay with me
through the black
darkness

they stay in the corners
of my mind and awaken
the otherworldly
dozing passively

They set ablaze apprehension
and embolden me to
boundless, unbridled passion within

If you need to love me,

Love me like my demons do

Dinner Time

Soups on
its simmering
Oven has been on
the pan of tomatoes is
almost overcooked
their ripe plump skins
splitting down the side
as the juices expand

no time to dice the mushrooms
its okay though
they shrink
turn bitesized when roasted
long enough

Whip together a creamy butter sauce
throw in quickly chopped garlic…
watch your fingers!

Put the first record on
skim the needle a bit on the surface
the screeech sends shivers
up your sweaty spine
sweaty because its hot
steamy hot
steamy because of the

soup!

soup needs to be turned down
its warming time
dash in some more wine
adds to the flavor

pour some
okay a lot
in a glass

sip as you stir.
did you forget anything?
nightlight in the bathroom
incense on the mantle
shelf dust pushed
to the corners and shadows

Try to relax before..

knock knock

there it is
the first door knock.

Dinner party begins.

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