[BU400] la p'tite mort

the cold thump when all goes dark exquisite convulsions on the bed open yer mouth and it pours out my donation of hot lead

i trace the mounds on yer body still warm -- though by every which measure yer dead -- traced those burrs with my finger yer lips curled

now you are transformed -- how the dry wind howls in yer hollow chest -- dinnae cower the heat -- for it will melt you down

lay down now and let yerself be embraced -- the cold arms of night pull you away -- you taste but dinnae swallow

[100 words]

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