My bereft belly still full, infantile tongue oft cruel, thumping heart ilk of ghoul, desolate toes drowning in pools. Known and knotted with kin, a bounteous many claim the title of friend, He has nested Himself deep within, and yet there is a novel land to transcend. This life of quicksilver continues on, with me as a child, a tool, a mere pawn. This clock of Solomon years ahead, why then Aphrodite have you left me to beg? A mature son ought to be better than one dead, too much experience and wisdom borne and led. oh boy, oh boy will you have me man? oh man, oh man do you take my hand? For it is I you’ve seen in the mirror, time and time again. Your water, your partner, your God and reddish hue. Your fire, your transgressor, your Devil(s) and deepest blue. One of many who caged you in. The firmest hugger, a girdle of sin. So it will be I who knows you unabashed, and you only who can retell and hash, that there is beauty in delay so long as you survive the lash. Your envious and affectionate eyes silently say nothing yet whisper to take it. Because boy oh boy, man oh man, the difference infinitesimal once we’re naked.
1 Comment
No posts
beautiful