Anarchy

Anarchy isn’t dead,

Its alive inside my head.

Enrapture

A bead of blood,

A bead of sweat,

Caught in her palm.

A need of blood,

A need of sweat,

Caught her in its arms.

Tracing those lines,

A sharp nose,

A sharp knife.

An unearthly shine,

The wrong dose

A wrong life.

For she’d work herself up,

And work herself down,

And she’d walk the pub,

And walk the town.

She’d slither sometimes,

Sometimes she’d skip.

Sometimes her heartbeat

took a dip.

But when her legs

found those legs,

And when her eyes

Saw those eyes,

Four times hers

And four times hers,

Echoing with

Four times the surprise.

A bead of blood,

A bead of sweat,

Would be found here.

A need of blood,

A need of sweat,

Would be found in fear.

(This one is about spiders- now read it again.)