With emotional paroxysm heralding the touch of bodies
Creation was bestowed on all bodies
And without knives and axes
Murder they wrote in inks so faintly deep
On sheets redolent of cum and sweats.
Sensual engagement is not but pleasurable
But the pleasure in sensuality lies in the belly
Of that which will come to bless the light
Of this world with presence.
Why murder secretly?
Is it to sculpture the angelic you
Or deceive the ignorant man
Or because Grace abounds?
*Pictures from google.com