Revisiting my lust, in
beyond borders;
I want to write your
name in cursive script.
Forked, when I pick up
the undiluted hemlock
from your eyes. How would
you like to become a game changer?
A shirtless moon walks
with me on empty stomach
to scrap the night from
the exuberant trees.
Conversion factor comes
into force, unusing the nector.
I will still say my prayers
to seek nothing.