Anti-Serum

Promenades below pomegranate sunsets are kin to

supernovas;  their  flustered tendrils  both

caterpillar  into blackness,  but

you can’t  chisel through  an oil spill with

only strokes of liquid white-out,  yet you and I can

clammy up the air with the syrup of sex and

let our linens parachute from the

granite bassinet – who will soon scoot and bounce as if

pushed around by poltergeists.

Please stay love,

for like a black hole re-assembled from an

innie to an outie –  the

shift from sucking to stuffing – I want to

unfurl into you and never leave.

I want to rot and shrivel up inside of you till I mature into a

Monarch and chew through your cocoon – and

I lust to pluck off your head so I can

plant my eggs inside and then

flutter away.

-I feel as if Anti-Serum is one of my most successful poems because I find it to be a good balance of my violent, macabre imagery and twisted humor. It's clean and concise, which is something I struggle with achieving in some of my poems. It's a poem driven by the emotions of desire and longing.