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Poem

London,

I can taste the cherries 
rich red ripe
aching 
for a predictive bite
savoured with much more than spice

warm mouths connect
and erect
in communion
in faith
consuming the richness of fate

but alas
It is too far off 
my patience reclines
supine

my breath wafts through the air
enplaned upon your scent
chained to your walls
forbade to move at all

but I must
musk mystifies the wild
the deep
the prowl
the forest lay dark
but I shine light on the macabre
sacrosanct as it shall be
I am the power to be

an elixir in the entails of lust
held cross'd the chalice
where your waters are my wine
I drunk
and you the alter of attention

I can taste the cherries
in your Puritan pulse
pulling 
I wander about
the mountains, the glory
my chains become yours
the locks not really locks 
keys forged in trust
the fires rage and rage
water droplets seduce your chest
I stand in awe
undressed

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