Sanguine Saint Bloodletting the Saccharine

Expelling thoughts at sunset
Watching old birds fly.
Raising the dead in Latin. 
Although speaking plainly does just fine.

Excavate commotion,
A kneeling rube feints the dawn,
Trounced among Tuesday's tithe
Bound Baylock, a burning scourge.  

Saccharine lawlessness
Bleached Death Valley bones, sun-dried
Its Mojave marrow gnarled by wheels
Running our fortress aground. 

Trypophobic pupils blooming 
Breathless in a stagnant city 
Chronotropic anger
Toe-tapping tunes of Eurythmy,
Bloodletting from a darker conscience 
Is it mine to deal with? Not really... 

Paving the way for swiddened hands
Farming a thread of life.
Crestfallen are the nightly crab apple trees
Dimming the semblance of last light 

No comfort is drawn from breath.
Exhalation receives the sigh,
Severing the oxygen from my lips
Allowing known demons to return on high.