Carnal

I tasted the fever of Your existence seems like cold grain to my mouth I stand aside, I stay away transmuting my quicksilver blood KIA - that I may see ZOS - that I may touch insipid are the describing words the self needs no vulgar praise This worship has no supplications my rite is to live and do things naked, pure, of honest lust the throbbing vortex feeds on it all Sleep is the best of possible prayers the winged eyes are blessed to see downtrodden deception of every torment transpierced hymens my lust adores