Monthly Anti-Muse

The daggers dull squeak purple crimson spikes
convulse and moans mirth pools of painful plight
the ache creeps stakes through belly’s bed tonight
make arch scream leave for languid loops of snooze

small monsters clench the curtains of my loins
old organs scream forgo the chorus muse
relief is brief in this chaotic scene
raw savage stomp on fertile ground obscene

pave paths for seeds to sprinkle as they sow
time ticks and grip begins to break away
claws sense the end and vow to come again
the war postpones on my fecundities

until this month has moved into the next

and hormones come to hunt me down in jest!