Three Lactose-laden Nosebleeds


Ravenmilk

the raven’s austerity, her umbre profound,
‘midst a canvas of clouds, she starkly casts down,
by wings doth she part, doth she walk mortal thread,
doth she croon for her song, doth she weigh Pluto’s heart.

each quill soaked in ink from a lifetime of stories,
each marble devours a world not for her wings,
each talon grows weary from tailwind snow,
each droplet of milk, a spite to her soul.

for the blackened heart abask in white cream,
erases the stories by which her beak ream.
the soul of a bird be drowned in hell-streams,
if stifle her flock, her gust-coasting dreams.

the freedom of breeze, by which shadow beacons,
not for no want but strike wings midst hell's deacons,
where white-wing doth cower in night’s dire hours,
the blackbird sings free in the sunbeam-ed trees.

no cotton or gag shall stifle death’s beak,
by ink, not milk, she carves out her screeds,
for where soon milk curdles, her stories stay fresh,
and dead feathers speak proudly at her behest.

"remember, remember," she croons from her heart,
"the song of the corvid, the ebony dart,
who beckons the dusk not from hate, but for art!"

and forget one doth not past her flesh's due depart.

Leechcream

my lizard throat damp with the pinings to glut.

drool rivulets menstruated through roulette fangs.

the gaunt worm hisses and writhes, saps desp’rate gush from dew.

entitled to a milk and honey of iron and sting.


moist wormskin swelters in the tropic malaise.

to feel every flake of skin squirming, tug against insipid graft.

a quilt of squirming patches implore for solitude.

stretch and yearn. wretch and churn. sickly it spurns.


the weak worm trembles under fat organ’s lust.

neurons swarm warmly in aching combust.

the vampires toll while the story endures.

but worm-body pleads, call the hunger adjourned.


our shuttering bodies sputter with ennui.

beads squint vexed by sandman’s sick dust.

spurn to sojourn, with passions I burn.

consummate dreams gurged by intimate lust.


when I feast, I must hurt; such acts gate-keep my pert.

sinking fangs suckle succulent clots.

I want a new body, more clean in its urges.

beast-cream’s all that fills out my fat.


throw guilt asunder, I’m a fat happy parasite.

gorged to the mouth with your sauce.

bloated by you ‘til needs more than eschewed.

slither not, leaches more crimson cream.


feed off your mead for my needs.

then feed, need, feed again.

I’ll drink ‘til you’re empty, worm-thirsty for more.

I’m plump, then I shit, then abhor.


leeches and cream, bodies all where I dream.

a gall cased in fat by my musts.

so I splurge and get fat by another man’s cache.

for there’s no worming out of my gut.


Mulchbutter

the mulch has drunken me whole.
it churns me down its muddy vortex.
it beckons me with its shrapnel splinters.
each shard is a mirror for my gall’ry of names.
i love my names but not like this.
it's making me sick the more that i sink.

the musk of timber drove my step,
and held my foot with bated breath.
each name fell through, each window parts,
each bears no face, but yet it grins.
an empty grin with an open jaw.
my tears are moot for my heart grins back
for the unfinished sympathy boiled in tricks.

under the mulch is a cavern of butter.
lipidically sticky and salty and sweet.
it’s coddling curdles have turned back the clock,
as they lather my wrinkles and batter my prospect.
the butter, it cakes me and cases my heart.
i want to depart now, from the thick-of-its start.

i look and swim up through golden cream clots,
the dripping translucence of mulch ceiling ruse.
the butter’s become now all of my names,
i’m titled by wood chips from trickled down treacle.

i fight for more names, for the strength to be heard,
but the ceiling drinks screams, it swats down my pleas.
i thought i’d find home here, in the words of the mulch,
but this tumultuous comfort has shred names apart.
i’m now but the words that beckoned me here.
despondence a siren for lonely heart vagrants.

it’s been years and i’m sapient to the dreams of the milk.
i see where it’s going and what it congeals.
yet lonely, I look to that ceiling again.
and see that my body was never down here.


Written and Posted to Neocities December 6th, 2024