The Second Sunday of the Eye

between the heart and the entrapment

hands of the father of the thinnest air

will knock upon the door of the sulking worm

with tormented demands

as tormented as the god of reflected passion

where love worships love

where love worships something else.


no blood yet has bleached assassin's grime

for tumbleweed and afterthought

on this, the second Sunday of the eye

the heated transcript on tattooed thigh

crawling through wishbones of concession.

death will be mine for the taking

life will be yours for the borrow.


inside the circle of your sea

while mimes the ripples of your endangered beast

the reaper casts my skull in search of crab

baited with the flesh that was once upon a time

the second Sunday of the eye

when love worshiped love

when love worshiped something else.


may your heart keep as busy

as the driest leaves in retreat of inferno's flame

where death loves death

where death loves death but nothing else

the nothing else that is death.

on the second Sunday of the eye

when came the second twist of cupids twisted knife;



  • L. B. Mek

    wonderfully worded, a strong spine of repetition utilised effectively to add a lyrical element
    an enjoyable read, in my humble opinion

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