Poetica Spontenaium – 01.28.03
It’s not oft I want to tie up my wrists in twine
Choke on bitter wine
With shaggy monsters, dine
It’s not oft I see the hideous beauty in gore
Want to lick an open sore
Be bludgeoned, and ache for more.
You look at me and shudder
But deep down I know you know
What it’s like to love another
After you’ve been told, it’s time to go.