Burned in time

In disbelief I watch the muse spin and turn

Burned on a stained canvas

Subtle

Lipstick married blood red

Oozes in bubbling liquid from suffering veins

Point my tongue sensuously savouring the taste 

Droplets form in crescent moons tingling senses 

Like blackened landscapes withdrawing from the dawn

 

Beckon the Gyspy King dancing on the left over wind

Colouring the sky left bare from forevers rain

Begin

Opening eyes see less than before

Closed in the presence of ethereal tragedies

Mislead in oblique turbulence at the comedy that exists

Drawn into the undersound smeared in lipstick

 

Another

Kissing a shadow left imprints in time

Less warm in doubts casting jingles of skin

Peeled formally as coats of texture 

Wrapped in butter tasted exotic extracts

Dip fingers tracing fragmented bones on the outside

All the while I bleed blood red from the inside

 

Whats in a sound as it rattles on a tin roof

Whats in a name best forgotten

Whats in a breathe expelled for a lasting time

Whats in a promise never believed

Whats in this that I believe

Tell me