Nurture me
Seed inserted deep into turgid ground;
Expanding claws rip through molten fabric,
Watch the spawn thrive in its perverted space;
Spreading its caress with a vile embrace.
Roots of eels, buds of flesh and sap of bile,
Infant of the Seven; Child of the Four.
Orchestral circus; carnal corruption;
Throbbing harbinger of insurrection.
I am the ivy crawling up your spine,
Hateful spores within an exhausted heart.
Nurture me with all your envy and spite
As a fully grown harvester of blight.
Poetry by Thomas Selnes
Read 1043 times
Written on 2006-10-31 at 00:10
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