The shambolic evening sings music
With petals of petunia in my thigh
I mock at the hypocrite crowd
The masked souls, enough of charcoal tonight
I shall burst my bubbles of insanity you say, for I am home to wild hills
Where the temple bell sing jingles to my arteries
Sinking in my color, the eccentric red blood
Coinciding with my footsteps, filling the craters of my lipstick
Filling the lacuna of my hairline
Giving it an atom of granite
Splendid marks will arise from my delight soul kissing even your dark loopholes
Will you do the same? Oh shame!
I have the meraki of dark silence comforted as butter in my palm
My sweet innocent innocuous palm.