Never to write of Love again
Feeding its will to multiple
A disease spread across a field of Spring
The nefarious shadows in cold endless night
The tips of the earth on sloth-like rotation
Love is my Winter
Warmed only by a distant moon
Or
The thought of a distant moon
I spread my warm skin out to hide
Beneath the fleshed surface ripples left
The Autumn leaves sponge all the color away
The other side of Summer
Me
I fuck love with glass shards and razor blades
Bleeding some tasteless antivenom
That smells of time
Ticking
Half past loneliness
