Of Cotton And Clot ▪︎Poetry (...

By lolitaelectric

363 43 12

Poetry or whatever Tw More

Prelude
1. A tale from an agnostic lover
2. Blood Sport
3. Penned Hotline
4. Hunting Ground
5. The Sac Of Absolution
6. God In Expectancy
7. The desciple
8. Undesired fare
9. Ghost bride
11. The ignus fatuus' final act 2/2
12. Dwelling the stone kingdom
13. Satisfaction in a cell
14. Prologue to happiness
15. Lovers' quest
16. January's soap opera
17. Consoling for an eldest daughter stood up in the garden of her father
18. The old joke
19. Shy kid's stage fright
20. Letter to chaperon
21. Holy kitchen
22. On the liminal bay
23. The Ritual
24. Voyeurism upon make-believe

10. Pitched forward into the inspection pit 1/2

5 0 0
By lolitaelectric

The hallows trapped gnarling to the drappery of my dark crown
Nimble tips come encroach my unfathomless recess of pity cloistered in pelts and pellicle pelages to the rear most curve of my back.
Those clawed fingers culling the soft ode I sang to light;
A blanched spot decamping my footwork, ashen, tethered to a heavier tandem
Light, the parcel recoiling the scarf I tug around to sere the neck that begged to be kissed, garnered by a fugitive
Light, the cotton ball fluffed around most's creases but not my tearless furrow,
Not my paled browns, my slit eyes bored on consequent sight; in logic.

There the reaping I feel_
Amassing fright past and through the greased, scathed cinders the wisps fall in to make the darkest blue ripples; my hair.
And I let them_ I let it
Peek me skinless without the fist knuckled or the tone mounting
I willingly sit in that case, crawl out of my hurricane flesh and put myself on display;
My grocery list fruitless, meatless yet still heavy with the Apple
Rolling on its green glade of peel
The solemn breaking heft of my sack.
Swivilled inward I am a bittered loop,
Grovelling intermitten in the shuddering of my joints
The tongue arced the penitent's guilt; the laudest and most ideal of shame's kind

And by this these days have darkened in delicate veering
To the instance of verdure's colors, birds' hymns to mourning elegies,
Town's orange burning afternoons headless to the recalcitrant races won in bairns' competitiveness, even in its worse never resolving to intended injures.
Apathetic in my case, dust too lazy to scarm from my my forehead,
A grim breathing drest I am
The sun finally reaches its midway naked and rulling
As light stand watching as they continue touching me and I let it

15/1/2024

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