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deepundergroundpoetry.com
Best Described As...
Haphazard isn't fulfilling,
As willing,
Perhaps, in regard to a naked us.
You leave on a bus
Marked Uptown and Detours,
Passing whores
And cringing virginal,
Diurnal
Creative things
With (so you say) devil wings.
So little humanity remaining
Of your libido, waning
Into -- not grace --
But the race
To sensual
Binaural
Denial and extinction's haze
From shame/fear maze
Of your own construction,
A destruction
Of natural function.
I can only deplore
And ask, "What the fuck for?"
As willing,
Perhaps, in regard to a naked us.
You leave on a bus
Marked Uptown and Detours,
Passing whores
And cringing virginal,
Diurnal
Creative things
With (so you say) devil wings.
So little humanity remaining
Of your libido, waning
Into -- not grace --
But the race
To sensual
Binaural
Denial and extinction's haze
From shame/fear maze
Of your own construction,
A destruction
Of natural function.
I can only deplore
And ask, "What the fuck for?"
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