I was born in brothels, where dark taverns of brawny men Licked and then littered landscapes layered with repentance and regret They would smile and spit on souls, scrape their heels on Sidewalks and erode pavement, roses with scents of revenge Like gasoline scathing the skin and burning bridges to the heart Disregard class distinctions, everyone paid prostitutes for adaptive peaks Raisin colored nipples that are flexible to nameless faces and Countless pairs of graceless hands and forgettable fingers A cynic of creation, an atheist attracted to a new religion Where sex and love were synonymous and survival was sacred The frayed ends of feelings were sowed in soil and watered with Droplets of destruction disguised as passion Memories of my peopled past were rewound as reconstituted dreams Where prisms refracted poisonous chromates of night during pink morning And penises pierced the psyche on stained mattresses permeating with morphine I came to church hoping pillars of faith would unravel convoluted cobwebs Decode the designs concealed in ceilings of the mind My lover lives in a seminary, another player in the game of morality Where consequence consists of naked arrangements of answers to temporary questions On paralyzing gray walls, lanterns and kerosene lamps shine images of Knives shredding and scorching sacrifice, demons are interwined with angels The hearth of human or divine desires, a tapestry of torture Silent during sermons at dawn, he mumbles a thousand Hail Marys Resembling confessions or comic testaments stored in drawers of manufactured faith, the misery of mistakes Fervently reciting remembered catechisms in his sleep to thwart temptation Like sentiments surmised, thoughts taciturn and misinterpreted Negotiating priesthood and celibacy with God, chaos and confusion Fall like torrential downpours and thunderstorms reverberate in his chest I longed to give him the hard kiss of hurricanes, to plunge Into an abyss of potential and possibilityBirth sign: Not entered
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