The Raw Fury of Moonlit Torture

The Raw Fury of Moonlit Torture

Willows slash like razors;
Tender skin rises, moon-welts glistening
As it gurgles, as it erupts in crimson -
Saille! O, how it leaps to the surface, a crusted
Demon bursting from the mound

Ashes, worm-enriched soil clinging like an omen
To the bindings, frayed but not broken,
not severed, no, not yet - What must I do?
Turn my wrists to the wind, palms open to the sky
As it lashes down in a crescent

Of sharp stings and wicked cuts to take the edge off.
I gaze into the puddle of murky water - this is
Where you feed, right here in the dusk of my seership,
Your roots tangling, creeping into crevices, unbalancing
Destiny as you grope to take firm root in the fertile soil

Of these bindings, slaughtered ancestry the blood
That rolls through these veins, the life I bleed out into
This pool where you sup and sabotage, bloated on my
Energy...I take it back. I cut through this tangled mess
With a razor as sharp as a willow whip,

Owl talons bared, ripping through the past like entrails,
Eyes glowing into the dark, exposing you to the wind,
To the crescent welts, to the raw fury of moonlit torture.
You are the demon cast upon the stone, broken.
You are the wound first cut, now cauterized.

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A poem from the depths...I will look it over again at some point and see if I want to make changes but for now, it just wanted to come out. It's been a full and complicated few days. I try not to get too upset these days when things way beyond my control happen...money comes, money goes. That is how it is. I continually am thrown about by the tides of finances. There are days when I would like nothing more than to live a very simple and austere - yet rich - life in a hut in the woods. I woke up this morning thinking how I wished I was on Cold Mountain, listening to the birds and the waterfall in peace.