I am undone and all my wanton ways are nothing
my wishes now but clay. I am the dry husk of a man
defeated by machinery.

Ah, but should the mercy of your redemptive tears
tattoo my face and moist forgiveness give me hope
would there be awakening.

The damp soil beneath your naked toes
fevers at your flesh to send you reeling
into deeper dark adventures.

Until the final breathless gasp
the voice of angels crying in your skin
Awakens my fertile humanity.

Leave those toys and that blessed car
we will wallow in the damp grass.