Wolves & Doves Poem by Ethan Moyer

Wolves and doves
Wilting violently;
Crucifying nightmares
In the trees of the forest.
Lonesome, homesick, dogs
Ripping the souls out
From their owners,
Pawing through the allies,
Hot and desolate;
Groaning with summer’s
Wild precision.
And the congress of the seasons
All skinned mercilessly
In the caves of treason.
Whips and leather.
Chains,
And humiliation.
Masochist aristocrats
Burning lively in the sadist society,
Dog-land city.
Death of the garden,
Garden of garden death,
Growing death,
Breeding death,
Young vegan death,
Rotting, red, in the tomatoes.
Fireworks.
Sparks.
Drunken my love,
We light the candles before
The sad divinity of our vigil
Of silence,
Above the crashing beaches.

Baby,
Put your hands on me.
(Moans)
Teenagers hot in their velvet beds,
Parties,
Bonfires,
California dances with ecstasy
On the beach.
We are the tribe of L.A.

And her bones were burning,
So she became truly real with lust.

(I stopped, and heard medusa through the thorns)

Marijuana.
Gin.
Cocaine.
Ecstasy.
High school winners;
Jocks and Cheerleaders.
And Dealers.
Big Rave.
South Beach.
Be there.
We sacrifice America tonight,
Before our vast shores of lust
And enriched reality.

I can’t wait.
A loss of virginity.
Seduce the stranger,
Make love to the servants.