I took the last, royal step.... King of my fierce heart, lounging in his leaded crown, discarding clove cigarettes into the golden O fish-mouths of ashtrays, sent me a straight look out of paired chilled blue eyes. It was the look of an abyss. Sheer ice, serene. Pupils black as the welt from a scorpion, full of ecstatic poison and preening to burst the skin. It wants nothing of the body. Nothing. Nothing of the flawed fable of humanity. I kicked its face. Spat, resisted. My screams deprived alpine birds of their air. He almost smiled.
He came to me, drenched from the midnight swim, an adolescent of exceeding glory. I stared into the mirror he bore on his filigreed breast, the nipples dark, hard, and cold as cherries.
....
But all of these visions are mortal! Bloodsoaked, blood-drugged; full gutters swooning with plush bloods; alabaster eyelids getting redder and more sodden as these torments roll on to the identical, dirty ending.
From the collection "Ascent"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.