a crescent in mourning

the moon is violent in the sky again tonight.
i watch it seethe, bald, it's o-mouth
kept wide in a pale scream.

the luna moth is carved into my back.
the witches testament. i howl with my animal
heart-ache, the moon replying in cold silence.

my muscles tense
and i feel the fluttering of sick wings
spreading inside my belly
evoking insanity
while i grasp onto the silence of a mute antennae.




Poetry by anguisette
Read 898 times
Written on 2010-03-14 at 04:07

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Rex Panthera
Occult, organic and intruiging. Interesting to read, to say the least. Well done!
2011-02-18