Ouroboros

It's at an end.
Welt sticky sap sapping syrup remorse remade regurgitate my facial features

It's fire or fury or little things with beating hearts and shiny eyes

Scab raw rash red ridiculous bleeding blazing bronzing her cheeks and her chastity wasted

It's water or worry or thumbnails and pixels set like stones in the tombs of the Pharaoh

Cut horrific haggard heroic hedonism terrorizing terraforming transcendental virginal mouths

It's too soon or too late or a hand held too long against her breasts and a finger forced too far down a throat

Amputee dancer struggling with broken dreams or a loveless man with a needle and nowhere to be in the morning

We're all little dots that won't connect or tired old dogs that can't see anymore

Laugh initiate invisible intolerable incandescent secrets slipping slobbering over pale skin

It's glass or smoke or blue eyes half-closed against the light of a dying sun held aloft in the sick sky

Screams loudly loosely laboring lunacy unspeakable unrepentant unknowing of what's coming next
It's hair or milk or blushing little cute faces with no names and no fathers to keep them safe when they start to swell and swoon

Cry corruption coherent confusion coagulation grand gorgeous grotesque little empire heaving and hurling curses

It's age or regret or a little lost girl who weeps and sniffles and just wants to go home

It's at an end or it never began but we all stand and watch the wall come down

Your hand is in mine and the heat beats and washes me clean in its splendor

It has its beginning.