who will you please after you dress the moon woman? mad.
lust lake through rain? and still, sleep beneath drunk smeared void.
smooth.
    
and summer placed
sordid chains, to shake deliciously from her spring.
white tongues fiddled, of
music that was a goddess. Through languid urge,
essential ache, only gorgeous and bitter,
blue to whisper worship cry.
you will have
her pink.