Made of Dragon's BreathA Poem by DevonsShe's near enough to feel but far too close to see I know the form and the excited heat the shape of the body beneath the sheet The grasping, the getting the taking and giving the wanting and the having the cold-sweat-feet Exclamations of exultation a want of cheap sensation It takes imagination to thrash hot meat The slither and slide of this flesh-pot grind is less an act of worship than a state of mind Less an act of love but a symptom of a fever worked-up from a vision of the teaser and the pleaser and the follow-my-leader To be up-close-and-personal with the Devil's desire To jump into the fire of a funeral pyre Made of dragon's breath is lust from a thirst for quenching feeling to a feeling quenched of trust Emancipation of dessication finds ironic salvation in a momentary elation then an empty husk Beside a crust of sweat-dried leather and a sack of bulbous flesh a heap of skin untethered and a bed of fattened mess A devastation of degradation in a warm puddle of guilt From where? For whom? For why? you cry Desecration of a womb? Desolation of the soul in which you're making room for more of what you felt before and less the feeling after? A space for love and none for a w***e? Or a cut for a bleeding plaster?
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Added on May 6, 2012Last Updated on May 26, 2015 |

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