Yearner I crave your surrender I scream as our blades meet, Dragging my steel over your coarse surface, Your form is all I see in my misty mind.

To witness you as a brutalist vignette, All shape and mass, weathered by red and white, Lying down and panting, Your body fiery to the touch, Leaving my fingertips scalded and my palms smoking I lick my weeping hands of your scent, The scent of smoke and blood.

I plunge myself wholeheartedly into the notion of you, I drop myself down a well of cobbled bone, A perfect commingling of liquid ephemerae, We splash outwards as we meet, Finally my treasure in my toothy grasp Gnawing at the golden wrist, Chipping my teeth on your bejewelled body Rupturing as stressed glass.