The Apparently Quiet Night Spent Reading Schwartz

[font=Verdana]Well, punishment awaits those who are drawn towards it
Like lodestone is to a magnet.
My fingers, long since satisfied by a figment of my
Festering imagination, seek closure.
The pink shirt had come off, but the veil
Was never lifted.
In doing what she did, the bitch with
Globules rent apart the cloister of my rancid feelings.
Her globules shone like steel benches on a warm day of April;
O Delmore, I can't see my own face in the mirror!
In black, she is even more comely and alluring.
My amorous cranium coughs out these lines like an old man
And she watches, fluids flowing like quivering brooks.
In black,she lights up a fat joint made with weed that I had given her;
There should have been something else adorning her sunburnt lips.
Her lips seamlessly release clouds of smoke,and I, for my part,
Keep inhaling them.
My clamouring insides finally conjugate with hers.
Delmore,believe you me, yesterday was a Saturday in here,
But I couldn't think for a minute about houses.
My fingers close in on the target.
Seeing has destroyed believing.