toothpick legs.

a volcano on the black horizon
happily spewed freed demons
from its red mouth.

you could not stop your screaming,
like the screams that come
with the birthing of things.

i could not stop staring at
the long toothpick legs
of the brand new baby crow.

some fire went out in the rain
on the tin rooftop
of a dead mans warehouse.

you looked glorious, beautiful, ugly
like a spider. standing on
that haunted spiral staircase.

dont come falling helplessly into
my arms like the cold burnt out
stars. come warmly.