Wither vine veins head aches like grape saplings
scraped from boot heels, sated appetite spitted remains
spat-out grains engrained blood sap licking flames,
flames black like rats eyes dripping out of muzzled mouth
teeth spiked like sickened wine drinks.
Drink life, crimson shades of red, black rock stools
bread baked in bleached bowels, flour ground
from drained dried life knocks, Owl eyes flicker,
Black Flames raid white space, rape, take, engulf, shake
grips, grasps mind-quakes, no escape.
by Paul Sinclair