On a crescent

soul sucker

this is biscuit
crisping the air when I need to hunger.
no rooms for C4
that tomb is filled
veins from ripe vines
blood in the right bond.
empty/
healthy/
no shadows to sulk
just necks to suck
two nuts unscrewed.
flow in the night
i see through you
I am your hell
I watch the skies too

Ruddapoet