The yellow windowpanes may have the smell
Of your ******, but, the resistance to change
Is as free-flowing as this ****** faltering of friendship
Maybe, someday the smell of you is unhinged
Like a door in space that opens up to the secrets of existence
Maybe, the feeling of eroticism is prone to the change
But, the friends I have gathered in this rabble all want my blood
You're the only who wants my bloodlust
Thank Heavens, it isn't an inexperienced ****** fantasy of sexuality
In this climactic hour, we should be friends, if we can't handle the pain
The dew falls from leaves slowly to make us whole again
Let it not go to waste, this time and toil
This sweat and agony of not being able to calm you in your vivid breath