Needles of the Sun

 

Needles of the Sun

This is where Death is born

The record needle injects your lush piano concerto

into my weeping ears

The laser needle burns the undesirable mutations from my skin

Do you want me to save them for you?

Death is born to a warm, vibrant, mother in a realm where the sun

breathes its moist heat upon the verdant plains

The eye of the needle is searching for you

waiting for your sores to scream 

for the penetration and your subjugation

The needle sweats your fallen desires

waiting for your most desperate despair

as the sun intrudes on the darkness

Gentle air from obscure rains

caress your tranquil face

as your piano playing swells

inside the mended cottage that

I am

And Death sleeps peacefully

in it’s mother’s arms

Yours poetically,

Count Robot