To Filament Sally Poem by Leon Moon

Ah, Eleazer's mask is but skin.
- O' the toad's bleeding shin!
Night arouses, a dragon stirs
In a small pool of Original Sin
-The scars! The thoughts that hold!

No, let them nail their fingers to the stars
Hold them; the finger prints the mask old.
Still, soft, breathing! Heffing! Saliva gin.
Where are the freckles, my love? Where is the grin?
Your smirks are cold and your sink neatly folds

Into that organic chin. Blood fades on your chin.
Where are you, in your slough? In your cotton furs?
Ah! Your breasts are bows to the eyes of bold
Debauchery. But you are a neat present on the floor.
What wicked beast, today, shall dance upon the gore?

I curl my nakedness upon the bed of skin.
Shredded breasts, shredded eyes, shredded palms, shredded minds etc...