think of the sorrowful nature
of erotica and the winged beasts of
lust. rapidly growing mundane resembling
a corpse subject to drowning.
revolting, repugnant, slimy—and still
you seek its touch. forever burning
torch of opposing power. you will choose—
lust, or fear of becoming inconsequential?
YOU ARE READING
my darkest mind
Poetryoh, my darkest mind, still as you incarnadine me in vain, you behold me as i fall. deeper, my darkest mind, roiling in fury, the fever you gift me, pain that befalls me, obsidian once sharp had since dulled to reveal the rectification of what used...
