The Tortured Copse

Into that vault
The armory of the wounded
Declaring the disfigurement,
And the traumatized beauty
of blackened insides.

Eaten.
As in chewed
Sucked, sickeningly savored
To learn and understand
and walk away and heal.

That fucking unwinding containment
Seducing interior hounds
That in their off-time
Prowl and hunt for would-be poisons
to rip and tear to unrecognizable shreds.

These mellifluous tongue-dancing preachers
Kick abstinence in the teeth
And soften crooked pathways
Bidding me to open wide
And swallow the dangling pearls-
made perfect in the shadow of corrupted circumstance.

The Rabbit Hole is between my legs.