mind

Viscous flow of your arm toward its verge,
Red on white scales reflect my constant guise.
Fingers sail the clouds, aim digging for cries,
A bond and blow concealed, yet pulsing urge.
Broad pale thighs mirrored vague our division,
While a cursed iris bloomed amongst the bog,
Yet bleak was the stem ousting our prologue,
Mingled zeal and flame, bore vile derision.
A breast, a hand, a shoulder were no match,
Versus the smoking gun of our distress.
No flesh, nor flower to ever unbind,
No nest, nor gable existent to thatch.
Fleeting swell of colours just to depress,
For pleasure and pain so dimness entwine.