&writing after waiting,
Full moon
Cunt blood
gets spilt
with intention,
the Phallus
waiting to get in again
showered maroon
and excited all the same
ready to spill further,
admixture
this manufactured
cradle-less
in the wide-open ocean,
a milky red
Ovalescence,
fully aborted cycle
shot
ex-vitro
into the water cycle;
in-stalling
reddied
movement,
the awaiting
blue lacuna
now weighted
by a proper moment;
a sauce confected
of death
missed opportunity
or steadied self-control
spun in the lunar turn
solarisation following the shade
goes round to come around
shade again following solarisation
ovaryactions
the untouched gets to unlive
saucy sublimations
inflamed
in the waxwork waning:
eggcited
patiently
until
bloody ready
to eggsit
and paint,
stain,
like
a fully
embodied
writing.
Still spilt
more frequently
than children,
there-for
for-there
waxwork
expectants
of a colder
blooded
lifetime,
too;
more
wicked,
shorter lit,
lifeline,
two.
These are the works
of unsexed lunacy.
The Writers' Circus 