Saddled to Ride.

The deserted landscape
whispers
fabled secrets
into frightened ears;
tailing just below
the wind
like words
sharp as swords
from your nightmares
an old, forgotten
friend,
brave of heart
– loyalties lost to time;
deafens thy ears,
to blind eyes
that you can’t hear…
– this tale of theirs’
or mine, or ours
maimed
by silken slices,
straps, smiles
chains
and countless vices,
– finally exhaling
so many swallowed
breaths;
and snotty tears,
inhale…
the air in here
tastes stale
like a milk jug
from last year,
chain-maille…
to a gang of filthy whores.