this is a communion of mockery

and it is bestiality that sucks
blood from my passion,

pin me down by your gaze, subdued,
I cry out, bite my spirit into chunks
of my broken armor, burn me alive

this instant, plunge my back with
the sword of impudence, against
my wish, but my wish is held true

in the recesses of this panorama
where nothing is seen, and everything
is naked.

punch my chest to make me numb,
your nails piercing me through
and through, till nothing is left
unterritorized. I’m no longer alive.

dead, I am, to the shadows that fall
on your naked back, I plunge my hatred
inside you with a power of resurgence,

of

this treachery of an evening, that lives
beyond the realm of an everlasting night.

let me be the trickster, let me
be the one to wrench open your arms
and embrace you with my lethal dance.

let me wrestle around the sky where
the sun has been plundered, disgraced.

let me eat the flavorless fruit
of this mockery of life, of passion.

let this night line my shores again.
let this night never touch me again.

.

The year before last, I took up a challenge to write and publish 30 poems in 30 days of November. And I finished it. This year, I am going to try and imitate it. This is Poem # 1.
Linking it up with Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Image source