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If I Could Look Out Your Eyes, I Would
He Knew The Anguish Of The Marrow, The Ague Of The Skeleton
No Contact Possible To Flesh, Allayed The Fever Of The Bone
He Knew That Thought Clings Round Dead Limbs, Tightening Its Lusts And Luxuries
Lipless, Seize, Clutch and Penetrate
A Loved Spelled Out In The Dust
Specters Of The Old Port, Phials For Tears
Into A New And Destructive Intimacy
Beating In Dactylic Strikes
℗© 2017: Posh Isolation
