theres a juncture
a crossroad
ask
Papa Legba
voodoo god
doorway to the loa
and Baudelaire
poet extraordinaire
when youthful passions and eroticism are sullied
and pretty pretty flies away
from years used up
and gravities command
a slow draying
suffocates leaps of consciousness
and leaves in its wake
belly bloats sagging gut
callouses
****** lines
slowing metabolism
and a host of other accumulated degradations

cruel revelations unpeel the chilled soul
as the light of the body is eroded
by time
and the horror of solitude sets in

a conjunction of creeps moon and Venus
show us new enticements
Satan's *** nail
an independent morality
flowers of evil
the eroticism of aesthetic suffering.
like idle hands in something filthy to ******
the glistening buttery *** of youth gone by
and in its place
forbidden undulations of dark dreams
and the beauty of ****** horror

or what then may i ask
the imagine-less drab canvass
of the castrated high minded middle class?