Why can't I asphyxiate
With ecstasy of some other's inhabitation
And why have i never felt the combustion
Of wings pacing through entrails
Am assemblage of lust snared
On walls of soft tissue
Racing lungs hitching to turn insides
Bittersweet burgundy like death, sex, and of course
Love lost in thoughts but never in practice
Never succumbing to a strangers met gaze
Dancing on corpuscles of an inherited face
Not yet sentenced to a hazy insanity
By the lips of a fetish idol
But beached in every swarm of red blood cells
My longing breeds into suffering
A disease that reminds me I am not dead inside
 
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