When lust, I feel so horny, I wonder

if there is a woman
as cheap as old abandoned cigarettes
hand-rolled:
to release
to eject my frustrations with
this fucking world
which sells itself as modes of desire
sucking out all the good
all the sensual,
all the stolen cherries
of my soul.

I cherish breasts made of tender blossoms
and petals, women
whose dreams flowover into words
shoot like falling stars,
telling me...

their Venus Flytraps
I fear for it would suck me in
and make me a slave
without my knowing
sweet sweet women
with lips full of conniving wisdom.

A kiss could signal death
with a smile of a dessert...
men made of sure metal
deepen.

there is no discontent in this world
than the sheer confusion that arises
from not having a home...
even if the home is in heaven...

we long for rest.
we long to love, radiate, relax.