Proposiskin

the skin is no puritan
the veins have no pumpkin remorses.
though nevertheless feels empty
 I gave a gateway to my
    relentless fears,
 of how one balloon away carried me to my personal demons again.
                              It  
                            was  
                         the  
                       most pristine animal I have ever known and
                        I  
                         tainted
                           it's string  
                               with my selfish
                                           needs.
the skin has lost another cell
and now I'm taken back
 to my first home,
   where only pearls grope my shadow
and another god comes for me.
 
This time a proposition is made,
 and a poet in my rib has the Return
Bake me, my black widows crawl for him
though at the same time, they are cookies of reprisal.
 
                           The cell knows
                           The skin knows
                           He knows
                           And now I admit.
I am through you bastards
Youth has defied me once more.
 
What kind of woman would I be  
 to make a proposition  
       only 2 mile stones away from the spirit bound
                             and not keep it?
He's still cold.
Looking for the Hollow Goddess.
 
So i tuck this one last starving god away in my hide-a- bed