A Tale from the Backyard of a Room (Wordle)

http://dunadan-from-bag-end.deviantart.com/art/Yew-and-snail-66796216

A Tale from the Backyard of a Room

My pharisaical snail
extends his neck
from his topsy-turvy home
to complain about the rain,
he sees the seas of crimson
as  evangelicals,
an entertaining book to taste
while sleazing through the days
and he mocks my bastion,
thinking
I am here to wilt while gilding mirrors
into forests burning
in the hue of wrists
struggling to break free
from the rope;
and he swears he never cries,
for humility of his mouth
is the translation of death itself
into something beautiful.

I struggle to whisper to him,
while he sleeps atop my palms
and curdles viciously,
bearing the pain of existence
through the moments when he is gone
somewhere beyond the reach of my idolatry
with the night,
I cheat the Sun to take a breath
and I sprout,
to give him a bed to safely lay on
and sleep and be innocent and be dead to this world
while his hypnagogia begs me mercy.
Tomorrow,
he will spew thorns at me,
naming all tragedy to mere acts
of roses departing to give way to bronze
and the pursuit
to tug the black robes of Death
and ask him :“Gently.”
will be solely
mine.

*Done for mindlovemisery’s prompt, which you can find HERE