what colour air we breathe

what colour air we breathe

through mounds of green

once brown as leather buckled-up as stone.

no skin. no bone. tone-deaf as treason

bright as honeycomb.

as dreary as a summer to a crab;

three fingers pulled

chestnut or portobello,

rain aside; water to the mark,

pours oil a colour purple

through the veins of Venus as she slips

head-strong as bygone years beyond;

as strong as mothers still-born calves,

red-mustard seeds that halves as roots,

no nearer life; twinned to shady night-street and a mole;

one bright look

ordinary and sad

the sculptured torso, black as hells own plum,

succumbs to language weighted down in stone;

no offspring proud as yet to borrow death.

your glass-eyes loud as sunburn on a breast

that feeds and pleasures mouths of feathers blessed,

circling as cyclone 

blunt as mussel, hanging from a rock!

cock-sure are you,

hapless me, less beautiful than you.

but a lovers bite

all mine alone to share and share alone.

come dine with me once more,

male-whore as dark as you still reign supreme.

don't blaspheme me!

I have no god for good of honesty.

repent, portrait your shadow on my lung;

all is left

your birthmark on my wrist;