(no subject)
upon seeing a hedgehog
stop your circling
blinded beast,
how was it you were so confounded?
(you will be the death of me)
you shame the brave
you who are so blinded.
and can your eyes still, blinded, see?
and can your ears still hear me?
do i simply stop and stare?
or do i dare stoop to love?
for i have no assurance,
that these teeth will not gnash
(shall i hold you distant with leather gloves?)
i am afraid
of your disease
afraid
that you will be the death of me
so i grow ashamed
of my shoes and the ink
upon my wrist that mimics
that greater passion of the accused,
that stigma showing red, not blue,
that sacred flowing red,
that sacred crimson hue.
peace,
be with you vermin, (saint,)
you who will soon die,
(you who will bring me with you.)
hush, (i am with you,) child, (beast,)
your face is sneering,
shall i decrease your pain?
shall i deny this feasting disease its ill-gotten prize?
shall i let the red flow, do i dare to let
that sacred show to those who look to me for mercy?
oh, what tender mercy can i bestow
upon such a trembling timid beast?
(for i am now ashamed that
this will not be the death of me)
i am ashamed
that i will return by another way,
that i will merely lay you in a softer bed,
that i will bring you to a more pleasing grave,
that i will leave you yet for dead,
oh tiny beast, you who i leave dying and confused,
forgive me.
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l.l