Absolute

[jesseszen]

 

 

The hypocrisy of flesh

scorns its owner, pain unrelated to blood or battle

yet longing, turning inside to out.

Your face grieves me with its beauty.

 

I shall seek nature

corner her, and pin her to a tree

press my body against her, as I would you,

and make her answer -

Will you relieve me?

 

Let me not dwell upon you

and this low music only I can hear.

Respond to me, yet not to me

the lyrics say.

 

Other eyes fascinate you.

Other arms and lips tame your tempests,

and walking unnaturally through

forests of grey musings

your servant, madame,

never to utter

one word.