my name written
in her uninhabited stare
beckoning for cockamamie
red summers dark kiss
like concussed
dropped video loops

slippery mouth
flute song
transiting star to star
and bugle horns
of gravity bend light
through her
white bones

velvet kiss
in asylum of sparks
splays queen fatale
with raptur'd eyes
posing in the shape
of a switch blade ******

every slit a shiver
her foot just so
she minds her dance
in a dooms day skirt
flouting a royal
procession of red
while a black rat cupid
rapes my psyche

de thing a fy me
she said
make death risque
like a dead end with a martini
and a ghastly
vermillion mouth

go a head she sneered
take a stab at it

maniac Venus
shakes off her blood
with shimmie shoulders
a honey comb tongue
and a lyrical cadaverous stare

married to a hole

my love
im Dracula moon
a trembling hunger
come to fill the empty
space in my throat
with a small bite
that nips and shudders
putto rose
like a fly buzzing in the blood
a thirsty shadow
of eager tongues
for succulent
brooding areolas

im crepuscular music
each note a puncture
of the miraculous
to hollow you out
with obsessions
of tossing vampiric
blade blossoms
that spin like prayer wheels
of honey and blood
in the ancient temples
of Katmandu

my arms
are getting
to short
to reach
between my legs

please help

a counter culture
redemption through sin
undermining structures of power
love to hurt you so good

bash mashley
**** me like you hate me
your foot in my face
please and thankyou

a gloved hand
a black whip pharmacology
that brightens the patients soul

behave you sick ****
a tyranny over docile bodies

a Judas to the enlightenment
are facts
controlled through mechanisms of duress

a ***** math circus
a war between high minded ignorance
and low minded superstition

technology is idol
lost in *** holes of space
and than the mojo goes missing

id rather pray to *****
shes on her knees head down *** up
i pray  *****
entering the temple

is psychology political

the reality is
the reality is
the reality is

the reality is
broken girls getting off
being broken by men
who love to break them
thera *** ***

In the end, each life is no more than the sum of contingent facts, a chronicle of chance intersections, of flukes, of random events that divulge nothing but their own lack of purpose
says the enlightenment.
__
But that doesnt make sense either
and I dont know why.