His voice makes me high
His eyes make me fly
He speaks my world of ache, despair
And coats it with piercing beauty instead
My world of black, my breathless world
He was there when it crumbled too
Yet I could not see through
I am behind the veil now, so I do
Existential boredom and hunger for some relief
from everything
even *** seems sickening
Yet I can't stop having it

He is not ****** - but he is a pleasure too
He is an angel - from **** heaven
He is beautiful - he doesn't have to try to
In a bodyless world (what a blessing,
what a curse) I'd be with him of course