Passion has a price. A thing of beauty
is a toy forever. Come over here,
I want to play with you. In the ivy
wall a kinky god-boy hides. He appears
only to the devout and the sex starved
sacred. Passion does not claim possession
rather it gives us our freedom. I’ve carved
all that sets me free on my arm: shaman
drug, kick-boot sex, tsunami orgasm.
Even when you are with me the god-boy
watches you watching me: our queer threesome.
Lover, a thing of beauty is a toy.
We love toys like we love sin and reefers,
vodka and coke, cum and sticky fingers.
memories of my ghost sista 