21

Munkhi
Mario Stone

                                                                 
     Sometimes I feed him daily
                                                                     though I try to not at all,
                                                                  and despite the bite, his empty eyes,
                                                                       I heed his monkey call.
 
                                                   I (Clutch the stick) crawl on my fists
                                                     in search of  flesh to beat—
                                                               (Blind it)
                                                                                 (Claw it)
                                                           (Maul it
                                                      raw) the pulp   I eat
                                                         I eat
                                                                               I eat.
 
                                                 There’s a monkey lives inside
                                                                                  my brain, twisting
                                                                grabbing me
                                                                             he bites— what bliss
                                                            to lick his tongue (Your lips
                                                       desire) what a fright.
 
                                                He’s crawling through my mouth (Again)
                                  he’s fingering my eyes,
                                          I’ve let him come alive (AGAIN
                              his howl no surprise
                                                               ‘fore twilight throes, the victim moans
                                                              unto My jungle groans
                                                      her wet oasis, her featherdove hair,
                                                          Her skin  the moon
                                                         so fair So rare
                                                                                so soft her lips   We’re crawling through
                                                                                   the bliss    Her mourning seeks
 
                                                                                          red tongues  Her eyes so wet
                                                                                           to lies—  We come

                                                                                                      for sin    Death welcoming
 
                                                                                                          The pleasure
                                                                                                             Your demise