Saturday 13 October 2018

In Vein

Lipstick like a bullet
John or maybe Jack
Forehead to the ground
LIAR upon his back

Glittered syringe
Infernum est ars
Kisses like needlepoint
My God, it's full of stars

Sleeping with the enemy
Yet we love him still
You could find another tempest
One who doesn't kill

Quartered, drawn, well hung
A heart without a care
A millennium of travesties
Modesty got me nowhere

I could turn my back
But it would make me sick
Open hands beneath the seasons
Tammuz was a chick

It's just a little ferment
A compliment to dine
Your sex and breath and secret smiles
All already mine

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