THROAT
Creature of benevolence, My lovely one. You trek the long corridor of This tunnel you have dug And come to the threshold Only to bear rigid, cold thoughts Like claws And flash your separateness at me Like a man with a gun. I see your true intentions there On your back like a cloak. Yet, I will wait. I will wait for you, With love and purity, with folded hands, Asking nothing of you, changing you not, Ready to clasp your wrists and lovingly Pull you out of the depths, Of the cycle. On the green grass On the hillside atop your home, It is beautiful and peaceful and You have painted many pictures of yourself For all to see, yet you don't see. I want nothing from you, but union is inherent Within our beings. When I get closer to the truth, And approach your secret inner-door With a knowing smile, You see the gate to my heart is open And you grimace and shake and Your mouth curls menacingly. You frightened man! With a deep dark throat spitting blades Threaten