adrena

the old woman with the dead crows for hair is watching me
through her milk glass eyes
and she knows i am thinking of sex with her son
who reminds me of cougars
as he rips me apart in bed
she is talking to me
with a voice in my head
that sounds haunting
like the notion of being dead
but don't think she hears me back
because my voice is quiet like cemeteries at dusk
and I am too tired to think
of my voice being like dawn
but her son sings like thunder
when he calls my name
and that makes me proud
to think the might of ages needs me
but what his mother with the milk glass eyes doesn't know
is Im going to kill her son tonight