shutting this lustful devil up into a statue
this is what i must do, to disguise my mutilated view
the ends of its unexperienced mouth tremble and twitch
as i force myself deeper and deeper into its abyss
and those live cheeks, curiously immature
turn to an indecent pink, in my repulsive, quivering hands
this statue i have concocted in my intellect
with these incomplete slots in my brain
there are no boundless alternatives to my, unsettling masterpiece
simply produced and seduced by me