Gross exertion, infatuation
    Flagellating the root
Of embellished insecurity
    Begging for a meal of ashes

Early morning pain, infatuation
    A ****** companion's invective
Reminder of our unworthiness
    As we consort with teardrops

Inquisitor's interview, infatuation
    Smiling torture chamber
Turning idly in hand the implements
    That will extract the truth of our ugliness

Gravedigger's labor, infatuation
    Burying our faces in clenching fists
Knowing our hearts have finally done it
    And sold us out for a smile

Her grass-stained bottom
Makes me wish I had been born
As the color green

Death alone survives
Love, that diseased old sadist
Twister of wet knives

Were I a dead man,
Someone might notice the scent
Finally, a guest

Look at her, midsection lines blazing

    Heaving prow swollen with glittering ion beams

Her aft sections tight and proud

    Bravely bolstering her posture as she surges into the fray

Battle joined, she calls the hunt with thunder

    Heralding fell sensors' unerring gaze

For none in the skies who've caught her eyes

    Have survived her deadly rays

Let us play shogi
In our teahouse, we will watch
The hummingbirds feed