Say it to me, baby,

that you want me—still—
after all that I've done to you,
and only.
    
I hear you breathing out hot
—lying flattened on the cold floor—
even after the hard bruisin'

you've gone through—swell, sure it was.

And I wrecked such havoc on you
all because I care for you,
nothing more, nothing less.

I beat you up swell
to get you in a better shape
just like a sculptor

beating his stone
into the shape of David—bare naked.
I'm modern Michelangelo, so to say,

and I want you
to whisper to me
that you crave me,

    that you desire still
    such tyranny of mine
    even more. So just say it,

for your perfection
and a sheer thrill that follows
—all these right at our hands—are so close.

    Wicked as it is,
    my whispering to you demands it.

Lull my body
dull my self,
    ye good poet of mine;

I could use some lullaby
at this starry night—starry
stars in heavens, creations
from the comforter;
oblivion now seemingly a synonym of
blissful state of a mind;
countless stars—starry are they,
boundless thoughts—wild, rowdy
thoughts and imaginations
un-checked, stimulating,
eager to be loaded and fired,
    and so on, et cetera.

They are crossing the sky
dressed in a hue of midnight.

    I think of my late-night coffee
    to be some reason for this,
    but I'll never be sure, still.

Woe to the being
in its brilliance ever illuminating,
ever since it was brought out to this world

full of wonders
—you might’ve thought as such, at first—
to your initial senses
just born into the earth.
Stellar you are, and they regarded you such at first,

but considered as a constellation baffling,
soon after, thus celestial, irritating
    to their perception  
    —belonging to none
    of the earth; heathen you’ve been,

    and so that’s why, I see,
    you’re deemed a heretic.

Looking around,
you walk on the heaven’s arc
painted in all its auroral glory,

    wondering,
    ever yearning
    for the only answer they might give you someday:

    to which stars
    the people of the earth
    give their praises so pristine.