how can i grieve a sectioned man who once crawled upon the seething of my blood?

how can i grieve a sectioned man who once,

crawled upon the seething of my blood

as his wrought iron gate

nested with a shore-line pack of city thieves.

waterbrain and fire stalls

on gods deserted skulls of hemorrhoid

flowerded the sugar of his groin

and towered the raven of his smell.

how can i grieve a folklore skunk who twice,

raped my ribs and chewed my postlethwaite bone

toned the muscles of my leek

beat the whistling prayers of our sisters fountain drum

as the red meat of my charcoal child

coloured the pages of my horse drawn hook

painted my movement in a still.

entrapment or a self inflicted wound?

mahogany or a cheap wood chase in an extra virgin oil?

hollow the silence of my hand-stitched shoes

walked once along the trail across the hedgerow of your scythe;

too many times have i died inside your crisis!

how can i grieve for a golden silkworm three nights cold?

as now webbs my cotton jaw with spiders teeth.

no grieving heart i know of,yet

has died before the court of an angel crab in a death row wig

with a laced fig dressed with a bull horns dust

whose sentenced lines in a tree-horse barn two decades tall

while soldered to the soul of a brothers vowels and permissive consonants