Ruthless Poets

Beware the ruthless poet -

Having already stripped the flesh

From their bones

They are now

After yours.

Try to understand

To brave

And watch

As they eagerly collect their own flesh

And burn it upon their

Altered
States.

The smell is indeed sweet

And wafts upwards

To fill the nostrils

Of God.

But most can only see mutilation

Blood

Death

Fear

Confusion

And blasphemy.

Don’t run

Hold your ground

And notice:

The poet still stands serenely.

Will you dare to ask

“How?”

                           --unAsleep