Phoenix

I am dying

To lick your scowling scars, you

Beautiful wounded animal

Branded in blood

I am dying

To cuddle the fierce tongue-flame, that

Singed away your peacock charm-

Scalded you so bad, black and gray

Ashes idly smoke

Where you lie

I am itching

To scratch at those scabby scars-

They itch so bad; you writhe on the floor, blindly

Clawing your way

Through it all

Grotesque though it may seem

My blood-socked eyes are impossibly, unblinkingly

Glued to the intricate etchings

On that ancient Wailing Wall

In an eerie trance-like death stare

A death-mourn escapes your cracked lips

A howl of bone-chilling proportions

Or is it my tortured lips that move?