Fruit
To bite, to taste
to ravish in the delightful juices
it drips from the lips and slithers into the throat
parched....
my tongue shrivels, my voice cracks
my lips lose it's youth...
Rotten, spoiled....
to shrivel in the sun
of oppression, to kiss the lips
of blood bathed companions
to make love with withered corpses
and to hug the chains of shackles
bruised bodies and black batons....
Filthy, nasty....
the fornication of our fruit
bearing the bastard...
red lips,
blue eyes,
yet not a white soul....
soothing - not
systematic - yes
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