Written in blood yet sheds no red
As pen caresses my mighty seed
The shadows hurled the whispers of the dark
As pleasure slithers in the moon of light.
And then decoded in the movement of your lips
You realize all of a sudden this is no paragraph
But fragments of innumerable plights
Moistened with the desire
Of some men.
Featured in PoetrySoup Home Page from Jan. 30- Feb. 5, 2012