Taint

I watch the wind whip your hair into submission,
a lovely display,
perfumed and cut and ever so fragrant
as the flowers of white
you wore on your gown…can I not taint you?
Be and smell the flesh of my never ending death?
My never ending eternity, wrapped into a body that,
never knows this lesson… never shows its true
progression
from a demon at its sides,
running cool fingers against pale skin…
my skin…my love...my drugs of the supernatural
sinking into me..
making me want to sing for a time
swing in a rhythm lost in a passionate embrace…
its so sad this continuous thing…
that gross begotten and bewildered familiarities…again…
even the owl has no time for lies against the middle,
against all that’s within…
I beseech thee.. in time…
I just hope I can finish my sickness
before the worse part becomes my snide…
be that as it may
and destiny so sweet and biter,
I’ll have you all with my lieing own….