In his hands he held me
a velvet voice bereaving
the time is ticking slowly,
yet from his lips
the drips they drip so sweetly
and the liquid is deceiving.
Absynthe on his tongue and I
can’t get enough I say
one more taste of what you call love.
Cos I don’t know the language or
the people in this land and I
know that they will never understand
the quiet or the laughter or the terror
in my mouth like bees-
Sweets for the sweet
do you know what I mean?
A reflection so green it casts a shiver
turns me black with an open mouth
would I rather be swallowed down river
like a dream tucked in a dream-
A willing victim or
is that too obscene?
Be my victim
be my victim
be my victim!
Be my dream, I’m just a fiend for
what you call love in the pit,
with the flames kissing my lips like
the ghost of the unnamed
with a hook for a hand
behind my mirror dripping sugar
on my tongue making demands-
I will scream silent but it’s only just begun.
One thought on “Candyman”
These poems will take flight on the voice like gulls on the break of day.
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