SILENT NIGHTS SLAIN

SILENT NIGHTS SLAIN

For these beatings from your silence
There can be no cure; continually
Lashed by that which remains unsaid
Were my words or deeds misconstrued?

Slamming back musical inebriations
Without affect or effect;

    - beware the hatchet swung
      which finds both victim and wielder.
      In the background melee of thoughts
      flesh opens like a flower in blossom
      sliced, the edge mute cleaves 
      separating joints, spilling the marrow
      of one's character

a clot of blood and dirt.