Towers and Toadstools

TOWERS AND TOADSTOOLS

Threshed inside the rushes

Pressed together, sold

Buried in the brier patch

Tangled, towering, old

Flowers against the branches

Burning stain of thorns

Crowning Queens as liars

Bent back on brittle bones

Prayers lost in flying

Tossed together, lust

Entwined swimming in ether

Boiling, ferried, cult

Caught in throats unerring

Distorted raindrop, drums

Serpents whispering sunrise

Tethered against the throne

Divine deception crying

Bitten visions curing blind

Swords of untold wrath

Toadstools like tongues entwined

Sunken fae reflections

A river with no mouths

Hands all over, healing

Erasing deeper doubts

Laid out in the clearing

Bare in thickets deep

Vines against the grooving

Making spirits sing

Thunder creeping closer

A darkness fast asleep

Hubris undercover

The eyes of God retreat

Treading over soil slick

Seeking sickness for reprieve

Relief a hard mistress to win

Guilt, a chain, defies release

Dark divination overruling

With deterministic twists

Demonic mouths all over drooling

Chomping at the bits

Held at bay in dungeons, yearning

Turned away from moonlit leaves

Frozen twilight gentle swirling

Kept from basking in that breeze

Wearing thin speaking of sunset

Cloaking daggers armed with teeth

Splitting Eden at the atoms

Taking apples, dropping Eve's

Gilded tongue's sublingual secrets

Told in scrolls in hidden dells

Cautiously behind barred bushes

Prisoners exchanging cells

Haunted eyes in silence speaking

Threadbare echoed fantasies

Tattered loves in dreams left leaking

Follies of the softer things

Frolics casting caustic glances

Hydro-thermal undertones

Frantic quicksand dirty dancing

Thirsty soil swallows bones

Against the logs already burning

I'm bearing torches all the same

For in this tower dreams a witch

Upon this tombstone is my name

Crooked, fickle, finger, fate

Still willing to be kindling

Ingest ingredients with haste

Eagerly prepped for filling

Altars painted midnight pale

Obsidian elucidated

With one rotation left to sail

I want to be sedated

Purple swaths of smoke

Speaking easy, peeling veils

A ritual for us bespoke

A fire for telling final tales

Vital secret of the forest

All that worships, all that moves

Is centered here beneath the tower

Aligned beneath the hooded moon

Photo Credit: Enfantnocta, Pexels, https://www.instagram.com/enfantnocta