The Bloody Lover of Time

Tick Tock.
There's a deep beating of a
bloody clock
nailed to the wall.
You're a nest breaker
with the cracking of the eggs
underneath the thin layer of static
we're walking on.
There's a stretching sensation
of time spreading thin
as the cells snap, breaking
and drowning within the bruises.
I delight in the sadistic side of your love
as I watch it bouncing down
the steps and into the glass,
smashing and cracking
the delicate frame
you've placed yourself in.
Tick Tock.
Tick Tock.
It's not as if you can rip
the hands apart,
smashing the fingers as they stretch towards the hours.
We can break the eggs
and drink the yokes,
letting them run yellow down
the fronts of our clothes,
soaking and dying,
molting and shredding
the remains of this
broken relationship
while mixing a glass of
wine.

Broken Rails

Soft tick.

Deep thunk

ringing through the cells.

You can hear the drip drop

of the blood

falling to the floor

and sticking.

It's not like you'll get rid of me soon.

Crack of the eggs

and the shredding of the bones.

Catch me

as I go sliding down the rail

and into your arms,

dragging you down with me,

off the road and onto

the broken tracks.

There's a train coming

with a broken wheel, 

barreling down the tracks.

I want to be with you

and hear you scream

when it happens...