He wanted to drown Not in liquid, but in sound Raucous rapture bellowing beneath Hands too heavy to hold his own Heartbreak. These lions labeled ladies Making ****** hearts sing. The candid caucus of cartographers With eyes too cold to cry Mapping and marring, Partitioning paradox with every stroke Witless wizardry without Love and longing. In a circus tent he found That circuitous catharsis Amid tremulous trapeze swinging Watched by the sloughed skin of sinners Vice and virtue muddied by malice. Exploratory tongues Giving preface to loneliness Too tranquil to be twisted Too torpid to be tangible Romance recondite, Sold to us by our world Leaving us with nothing but Fantasy and Broken bones