|
She frolics through the rain |
|
whispering love insane |
|
her kisses exit through |
|
heart-shaped exit wounds |
|
Her skin like flesh of angels |
|
her blood my catholic wine |
|
it moves slowly through me |
|
disintegrates my spine |
|
She's got heroin embraces |
|
that I still need to be in |
|
I force myself to loathe her |
|
so I can fall for her again |
|
Her lips are wet with venom |
|
her posture's serpentine |
|
she'll touch my arm and |
|
flowers grow there |
|
poisonous and obscene |
|
All her shrugged little movements |
|
and their despotic majesty |
|
in the midst of such perfection |
|
I can't help but feel diseased |
