Black Gloves Poem by Joseph Narusiewicz

Weeping like a Mayan Forest
Waiting for you with temples
Everything in blocks of alienation
Tensions where demons lie
Love is not a carnal Eden
Her pagan sweetness is empty
Bitter with addictions illusion

Spiritual contact in the other forest
Forest of sides and choice
She handcuffs me to the mountain
Grapes, plums, chains
Eagles nest of iron eyes
You see the reaper coming
He is coming for you

Look out for the leather enablers
Watchers hidden in the desert
She collects souls selling her own
Indigo sleep with bamboo moonlight
Orange stage with actors of druids
Your full moon brings a dark guest
Her black gloves are blood stained