Αναρτήσεις
Bow at your high motives pay your respects
your dirty clammy skin under the flat-ironed suit
the tender touch, the compassionate glimpse
camouflaged in their suffering they riddle your weaknesses
for each under your thumb, I get
your head under mine and crushed
I take pleasure in your deft moves
a taste for the able, a taste for the best
but at the end of the corridor
you melt at my feet, drip and trickle
beg to touch me, marble blood
ah our arteries refract as they leave me and enter you and vice versa and we become, we become, we become
---
