Sophisticunt

You who think you're worldly,
not made for the kitchen sink.
Flexing muscles to keep you tight,
till you cock that weapon,
cock it tight!
Politicking like Bill in heat
till he knows that bird will sing -
What a pink lascivious thing!

the scenes i had not seen

I said I loved you.
I grew to covet your skin.
Laying upon the sheets -
the foul stench of passion spent -
I didn't like the liberties
it had seen.

Your body,
no longer a symbol,
defining you
defining me.

Like sin upon which
I claim righteous authority -
I'd stifle the air you breathe,
I'd burn the books you read.

In dreams we acknowledge,
the only) truth of lovers:
that naked in bed, we lay
oh babe!
what else is there?

And those before us,
with whom we shared
our most private moments,
a lover always stays
your lover.