my days unbraid unjudged
they lurch from lust's tongue to the tip
and emit heaven's hum.  my thousand
is one, with the mercies of a thunderous slake
of thirst... a perpetual affection for your
worst; at best -
You have become
the One twin
of three things. what love has done
to be no thing -
you cannot fathom the pardon of such
human wanting.
but you can nevermore
have affection for summer
in the winter of our languid drum.
my singing comes.
what love has done to be Love
i have done, anon.
i have done all to please the ramparts
of your siege
but remain unloved.