Sweet Tooth

This morning, he hiked across the wooded bridge,
along the blackberry path,
just the same.
The night had been enough.
It gave a generous moon,
moments of lust and love.
His heart was not the same.
This morning, the world washed away,
penalized by urge.
His age empty,
his moral lost.
He wandered to the edge,
the cliff hung over,
pointing out in blame
to the world who bellows below.
A row of silence slurred,
his memory went first.
His heart was split and speared,
he wanted to give it away.
He slipped out of wardrobe,
his bare toes slide into earth.
The sun walked over the moon,
his hunger, the craving, his excessive desire
rolled neatly into dust.
The part of him
that swims inside of himself
fell asleep in Hell.
This morning, above a world
where cheap perfume is sold,
he gave his insatiable eye away
and laid himself to rest.


For a place that is new to me, Three Word Wednesday.