Catacomb Kittens

They gnaw their tongues on rinds of meat-broken teeth 

hinging down on ivory sheets 

marrowed wailings of pale slate thieves 

robbing from the names of carbon matter kings 

Lucid in this crypt where dreaming devils dream, 

rested barren robes of mausoleum sleep.

..And in this anguish... 

Dusted shackles of gristle'd bone 

adorned in powder – lain in pose 

a sleepless sleep for the stalking ghost 

a listless ocean of mournful woe... 

Condemn ye, where river turns to brine 

in the overflow where the corpse's thrown, down by waterside.

I cherish. Our nights in Paris. 

Touching under street at the place where we once rested. 

This bleeding.. Not much of it left. 

We held hands where lovers leapt, holding on as we held our breaths: for fate. 

We went chasing, in all the wrong places, 

until our paths were facing in the same direction to the death; we raced, for us.