I dream I drown. I vanish with a splash,
somewhere. What love does not osculate? play
smack lip? My face: two black eyes and a gash
cleft by an axe. An indifferent doomsday;
you will never kiss flesh lost to the sea,
never kiss me and we say that a kiss
is where all romance roosts. My velvety
tip of tongue shall be lost. My faith in bliss,
sacred like the tide, shall be lost as well.
Hell shall be tulip sauce, sounds of suck face
elsewhere. My grave mistake shall be no grave
dirt for you to weep over, to bless. Hell
shall be knowing that your kiss would bring grace
but still being lost in this surge and wave.