Sot among whispers, casks of thickening kisses, fleshy fruits with a center of stone. neath the patina there lies shards of glisten. Our pulp lined gums taste no bitterness (be it from bile or silk) Open mouths are for kissing and chewing, but our imbricated teeth aren't meant for ruminating on such cuds. They say he that's born to be hanged will never drown, but I will still tie myself to the mast as long as the sirens keep singing and preachers keep preaching, swaying me to the rocks. This nasal breath pins a song to my starch, but its tempest forfeit my sleeve. Serpents may dress smartly in plumes but those darting pigeon eyes burn like a pill in my throat or a coin in my hand.
sot among whispers, the helms ill-turned for our rudderless senses leave us clipped winged birds. thrown the bread of loam, and with salted eloquence feast on the adulation of sychophants and be draped in tailored garments of invisible thread. how can one sleep till there made aware of their nakedness;
the prince's rash of silver sensed not the weight of his usurped crown ,
if all has turned to smoke then only our nostrils can distinguish. (we were borne of vanilla, all since has seemed noxious)
Sot among whispers, there is no harmony in these confounded tongues, but many melodies competing for space.
Sot among whispers, as an abandoned coal. what will become of the carbon
Sot among whispers, thick like wards of sick soldiers.
sot among whispers, like bodies of expressionless lovers - oppressive and petroleum.
Sot among whispers, I can find no silence in my lion's arrogance, no worthiness in my pinchbeck forging.
but i am warm of matted hair,
sot among whispers.