her gospels seem made of lechery and dionysian debauch / mouthfuls of rhenish and of lambic , sticky - syrup affections matching sanguinary ——— tongue . and vanity disarms her , bespoken by mocking and by sneer , maudlin lost on her as she slides the arc of phlegmatically up to her brow , fickle tastes worn from vagabond charisma . ruddy revolution bruised to cheek’s apple and throat’s bulge as … unfurls in lackadaisical flex bile against her taut / torrid throat , a desert storm whipping an undying / deathless thirst . ❝ fight me . ❞ / * winterbred










