Well Old Son: Part Three

III

Wholehearted devotion destroys cruel minds. He dreams of dreaming in dreams of bottled paper boats, blood curdled in breathless lungs, a ragged harlequin's muted scream. A single taste: metallic-nectar erotic-carnage haunts the warmth of noxious breath.

Derelict pantomimes drill into waterless earth, hands of shadows

cast over masks of thorns & eyes of diamonds. Blood-tinged lips:

a simple kiss. The passion of her breath was death itself.

With eyes as dead as coal mines.

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April is poetry month.

I want all you writers and readers to celebrate poetry by committing to a daily microdose of poetry! April is not the cruellest month!

Here's your brief guide on safe poetic microdosing:

Here are a few poems I prepared earlier for your experimentation purposes:

Stevi-Lee Alver is an Australian writer and tattoo artist. She lives in the middle of Brazil with her wife. She loves bush walks and waterfalls but misses the ocean.