satin sheets of sin

and

the uncovering of skin

the grace of disgrace

a white sofa,

and summer sun

caviar and strawberries

raspberries

that drip like syrup

down

to the crown

of broken kings

and stain, like blood splatter marks

against the character

of the slain.

lips, like full pink flowers

tasting, the tips

like silver petals of a rose, glistening with dew

All the blunt forced anger and broken wine glasses

are far away

from the apartment

that stares at an empty city

Women hating men

and men hating women

while the compassion of passion

rages

like a love song

on the radio

dialed down to one decibel of sound

scars

felt with soft hands

tongues that taste each other

in the dungeons where food is thrown

and black licorice lace

eaten by a boy

who loves the warm embrace

of older poetry

whispering sensual sounds

in his ear

“Hush, little baby, and give me what I want.”

“Yes, dear.”