Skip to content

Food for the Gods (Clean Sheets and Cigarettes)

September 3, 2013


She said;
A little more, a little more.
There’s a wolf scratching at the door.
A sheep, a little girl and a whore.
Lapping at the honey-gore.
So much sweeter than before.
Little pig, little pig, let me come in.
The swine were driven off the cliff.
Now I’m hungry again.

I said;
A little less, a little less.
Perhaps if you’d worn a longer dress?
If you hadn’t been such a fucking mess?
If you’d struggled through duress?
It doesn’t matter now, I guess.
You can’t unring that bell.
I said I didn’t care.
I said a lot of things.
But I never told you I was there.

She asked if I might still love her.
And I told her that I could.
She asked if this would change things.
And I said it never would.
I asked her, very quietly.
If it had still felt good.
‘Cause she was looking to the sky.
Whilst I was still swimming in the blood.


From → Poetry

Leave a Comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: