Spoken Silence

May my open door accept death;

May my welcoming arms embrace you.

Come inside

    From the cold wet snow.

Let me greet you

    Where the staff of the rich bound the poor

    When floods meet the sanctuaries of the divine.

May my soul not escape the serpent of death;

May my feet be always planted on soil of the mother.

Take everything

    From the dignity of myself, the bloody boar.

Let me taste your decrepit sickle

    Stretch the carefully honed blade

    Across thy impeccable neck.

May you sharpen your hunt;

May you disengage the roots of my teeth.

Disembowel me

    Carve loose the very insides which define me.

Let me be drained by your fury

    Sever off thy tasting instrument

    Fill my open passages with leeches.

May you lead the wrath upon me;

May you abduct my spirit forever.

Prevail life

    Seize my wisdom.

Let me decompose to pure cypher

    Lay in thy body excrements

    Smolder in the acids of my entity.

May I become dead without one last cry.

May I profess the love I have lost,

    For I am to die.

© 2005 David Greg Harth

05.09.04.03:46:07@296NYC