Bed Of Flowers
Resided on my abdomen
Rested like lumber
In a slothful crusade
About my enamour
Subsided horizontally
Beside my parallel adjure
In my bed of flowers
On top of me
Buried deep inside of me
Like quarrymen
Penetrated to puncture me whole
In the orifice
Where boarders part
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Except but mutually Do we stumble oftenUpon the fallen flowersMade of venom and bane
In Your Affection
The kindness was in his eyesThe sweet assuring Of his soft-spoken inflection with words
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It reeked of deathThe stench of quietusWith mangled breathIn a naked room
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