Connoisseurs of Despair
Sharon tells me she's thrilled
when she sees her skins peeled
From the scrapes of Tommy's fist
bruised from docking with her lip
But she says there always kindred
Infiltrated through her affection
When she gets him cornered down,
Like a housefly on her heel
Counter clockwise in his groin
Which thrills his pupils to counter twitch
On the chessboard colour floor
Where he moans with satisfaction
to be her incandescent whor-
And Even tells me that its heaven
When it's a quarter pass eleven
And little Sara's got him toped,
From an altitude that makes him drop
With her firm technicians grip
That has him writhing into fits
Raptures abound this tender bull
Bandaging him with a tumble fall
And stencils blue onto his neck
It's the comforts of her molesting
His inhibited recluse affections
The best attention always granted
when empathies contracted herpes
Malice quills the confines
of the insipidness of yuppies
Directing our destruction
In Mutually Assured Romantic Violence
So Bon appetite
We're coinsures of despair
Eloping debacles whenever we dare
To pour gasoline on our match lit embraces
Hiding in desserts to prowl long spaces
Dancing synchronous in a voodoo oasis
Never leaving the affliction of what we call each other
Because we are reflections of the same broken mirror
Entwined in web of malevolent luminescence
From which we cannot so soon depart
It was too soon to dance,
now it's too late to leave
[...] Read more
poem by Kevin Patrick
Added by Poetry Lover
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