Artemisis

trust not your instincts, be counterintuitive,

i will shuffle off this mortal coil

this discourse of naked reason and flesh for thee.

you know tis true,

do not

snake upon me

the slithers of a slaking soul,

shake off your wares

and speak to me briefly.

soft the pillows of time,

and the orientalism of europe

endures on and on

nothingness and pleasure

capped for the night

silkened into a road of unending fancy.

dearest,

do not sword me with yellow teeth

unroll the night into a void

and throw me into a den of monsters...

show me

each light and let me delight

in thine santification.