I want to eat of your bitter heart
and sing praises of your ruined body,
play drums with the shards of your shattered bones,
and watch the pomegranate flutters
of your ribbon-skin shake and shiver
while you dance with light-step feet
that don’t know I have already
cut short their music.
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About Catastrophe Jones
Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
