|
Hang over me the drape
Of superfluous horror
Aside nocturnal trapping
Wallow in my art
Crying and dying
My sexual ecstasy
The crimson stream that flows from you
Magnificent, supine
Red heaven gapes at me
Dragged across putrid ground
Mother scorns my glove
A vile red heap
I gorge my selfish dream
Polite garden party
If only they knew
Lick the eyes to make them shine
Peel the peach, cold with time
The weight of fantasy
That is not even mine
Smell her wounds
Rich more than wine
The crimson stream that flows from you
|
|
