Byrons lemming stops at brink to have a think

By Dusty Hope

Byrons lemming twitches

with horror and glee

and love & death fetches bewitches

fetches switches

crosses tosses in and out

leach and breach and peach.

Extracts acuteness from desire

porn and forlorn in perpetual industry

cuts that throat open

feeds the hungry fishes, biting biting.

Wage rage gauge get out of my cage

terse and estranged

buffering suffering

more than I am

less than I know.

Splitting hairs

rides along the sublime

panders to ecstasy

rhythms and rhyme.

To let beauty throw

voices and screams

of a wild and frantic fatalism

under a shine.

Perfume the gloom

sorrow and nil

burrowing the thunder

raiding the kill.

And rainbow of Wound

fastened to phases

in and about the Dark Ages ?

Hanging on sighs.

Beauty melds into sorrow

ocean of death, stuck in love of skin

for heart and pole enflames my soul

with fatal allures

deepens that, festering red.

Sadness is breath of death

drunk with fury

how it hypnotizes

burners of tissue

down my white neck.

Learned to make use

of your weaving reluctance.

Nip and slips away

as titillation of it,

having risen to an everlasting breadth.

Love is a perfusion of heart.

Singularities can turn corrupt.

Acquire instead

a central heating system

around my lies your balmy flies,

and drug the boredom

with my backhand tied ?

To yearning,

the cursed and spurning.

Hocus focus.

Adoration consumes the lust.

A magnet in the mirror

suspended by drama

hand to bone, what gets flyblown ?

Proportions affixed to Thomas Mann mischief.

That fck that fck.

Attack attack let love take it back.

Languors Lord Byron

on a Danish haystack

owing to evidence

of sun and backpack.