Love is Mad, Mad is Murder

She slithered into my head unnoticed,

seemingly through cracks and creases

left abandoned, forgotten works of

ancient builders. The clever Devils left

me exposed to this wanted intrusion.

I loved her little body, bendy and fair

and menacing in its sensual posture.

Time twisted and snuck past my defenses,

when I finally noticed, it stood sneering

in the distance, taunting my failed perception.

She had me buried deep within her plans,

drowned to the bottom but sinking still,

further into a collage of the failed wills

of all the others. They too fell victim to the

same cryptic grinding hips and serpent speech.

Down beneath the bottom of everything

I see the cracks and creases of her grimaced heart,

freedom may be possible, but not like this

for I too am toxic and spewing evil intent

laced with lust. We will sift the innocent forever.

Twenty five years I've eaten her fruit, tasted

of her nourishing decay. Life flourishes when

roots reach down to death. But she has nothing

left to offer, she has fed all the fruit she can.

Find another. Maybe this one will last forever.

Dig the garden, six feet down.

You'll find it's full of love.