Hang over me the drape
of superfluous horror
aside nocturnal trapping
wallow in my art
crying and dying
my sexual ecstacy
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.